Chapter 1 - Live Again, Die Again
I stand up, my head in pain, the ringing in my ears more pronounced from the silence around me. I fight the urge to spit whatever liquid my mouth is about to throw up for fear of getting embarrassed by...
High-rise buildings tower over me from every direction, accompanied here to there by palm trees. A few meters ahead was an airport terminal completely devoid of any movement, save for a windswept newspaper fluttering against a tire of an unoccupied car. The glaring sun's position tells me it's somewhere around noon. Nothing seems wrong.
Except I am alone.
Sure, the fact that this completely new scenery around me is also off-putting, but that's nothing compared to the feeling of solitude. Where am I anyway?
Picking up the newspaper, I read the news headline: [Top 16 Fighters Revealed: Who Will Become The 23rd World Champion?]
[PAPAYA ISLAND—The 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament (WMAT) has concluded its preliminary rounds at 2:50 PM, Tuesday, on May 3, Age 756, and has already announced the top 16 fighters to claim the prestige of being the 23rd World Martial Arts Champion.]
[The Tenkaichi Martial Arts Committee (TMAC) confirmed fans' speculations of past-tournament contestants returning once again, revealing a mix of seasoned returners and promising newcomers in its final bracket.]
[The Road to Glory]
[Grandmaster Howl of TMAC, the Director of the MWAT, recalled the Great Demon's Return three years ago at the end of the 22nd WMAT, saying, "The last tournament left a scar of death and despair in its wake, but what the Battle at King Castle has shown us is the immensity of human potential in the field of martial arts."]
[He expressed confidence about the fighters' entertainment value, projecting high ticket sales and film revenue that could "rival any action movie stars could ever dream to earn."]
[Mr. Eric Vale, the WMAT announcer also showed his excitement about the spectacle tomorrow. "There is no doubt left in my heart these contestants will leave a spectacle in the Stadium for the world to see, one that will shake the heavens and the earth."]
[Below is the list of contestants who will fight for the title at the World Tournament Stadium, ranked randomly:]
[1. Anonymous - the only female newcomer in the roster of fighters, this contestant did not disclose any information about her motives nor her background. Does she really have the skills or would she just be relying on her beauty to catch her opponents off guard?]
[2. Junior - a mysterious newcomer donning a turban, one can only speculate whether he packs a lot of muscle beneath the cape and shoulder padding he's wearing. Some speculate he's a distant relative of the Great Demon Piccolo.]
[3. Goku - a renowned and seasoned...]
Wait a second. I couldn't be on Dragon Ball now, could I?
Crap.
Birds squawk in the air, flocking a certain direction, no doubt away from something disturbing the atmosphere. Is Goku at Papaya Island right now? Could he and Piccolo be fighting there at the Stadium? Are they the reason why people are nowhere to be found?
They have probably fled the island once they discovered Goku has been fighting King Piccolo's offspring all along.
Eyes wide, I sprint toward the fight, past the deserted airport and entering the dense jungle of abandoned buildings before a slight tremor stops me on my tracks.
My insides stir. Should I really go there? Do I have a death wish? How can I even think of watching something I couldn't defend myself from?
Mr. Vale's announcements reverberate in one of the speakers of a deserted cafe. At least I could learn more about what's happening in the fight by just listening to him, right?
One of the ceramic cups still hold coffee clearly left unsipped, which I help myself to, thanks very much. The announcer starts doing his thing again, shouting about how Piccolo is preparing a major attack by drawing energy from his surroundings.
Wait a second...
Another tremor shakes the cafe—the whole island. The light bulbs flicker on and off, casting erratic shadows that stretch and shrink across the walls. Stools get toppled over as I lose my balance the same. Cups and cutleries clanging in protest.
Then it dawns on me. Isn't this the time when Piccolo is going to blow this whole island up?
I'm screwed.
The realization slams into me like a truck—Piccolo is about to blow up the island. I scamper away, knocking over stools in the process, my heart hammering against my ribs. The café trembles again, the overhead lights flickering wildly.
I burst to the exit, my eyes darting for anything—anything—that can get me off this doomed island. The first car I see is a compact sedan, abandoned like everything else. I yank at the handle. Locked. Of course.
Another tremor. My knees nearly buckle. I don't have time for this.
Without thinking, I slam my elbow into the window. Pain explodes up my arm, but the glass cracks, then shatters. I reach inside, unlock the door, and scramble in.
Keys. Where are the damn keys? I pat the seats, check the visor. Nothing.
The tremor worsens. Yellow energy sparks in the direction of what I could only assume to be the Stadium from afar, electrifying the air.
No. No, no, no.
Reaching under the dashboard, I rip off the plastic casing, exposing the ignition wires. My hands move on instinct—strip the insulation, twist the right pair together. A sharp spark. The engine stutters, then roars to life.
Another tremor surges through the ground, rattling the car's frame. I grip the wheel, throw it into gear, and slam my foot on the pedal.
The tires screech against the pavement as I swerve onto the empty road, wind whipping through the broken window. Behind me, the sky darkens, as though threatening me with impending destruction.
Not if I can help it.
The car speeds across the cement road at the airport when the tremor intensifies. But a deafening crack splits the ground ahead. The car tires at the side dip—the car lurches, tipping into the fissure.
And so the world tilts before the back of my head slams against the window frame, my back in sharp pain despite the cushion of the door's padding. Metal screeches against earth, pounding my eardrums as I try to shake off the dizziness. Then the car comes to a stop, lodged at an angle, half-suspended over the darkness below.
I force myself to calm down, breathing in and out, feeling my heartbeat about to break through my ribcage. Thinking things through, I consider my options.
There's no use trying to open the door wedged shut against the rock. But maybe I could try opening the other door above me.
The tremor doesn't stop, and each violent shudder threatens to open the crevice wider. Dust and stone rain into the car in irregular, narrow streams through the open car window. Any moment now, the car will be filled with enough of these dust and stones to be pushed further down.
I need to jump, or climb—or something. Fast!
I grasp the other door's handle and click it open, feeling the latch unlock with a satisfying click. With a deep breath, I push—but the door barely budges. I stretch my arms, pressing against it harder, but awkwardly angled as I am, I just can't get enough leverage.
Gritting my teeth, I bend my knees and jump.
The door finally swings open, but the sudden shift causes the car to scrape against the crevice wall, tilting it downward ever so slightly. My stomach lurches. The tremors don't stop, the ground beneath me unstable, threatening to send the car plunging further at any moment.
I glance up at the sky. The clouds swirl in the chaos above, dark and churning with flashes of lightning, as if taunting me on, telling me my struggles to escape are futile when Piccolo is going to release the explosion any minute now.
Ignoring the thought, I take one last breath and prepare to climb.
I raise one leg, straining against the resistance of my tight jeans as I find a foothold on the edge of the car seat. With one foot in place, I reach for the upper edge of the second seat, gripping it tight as I lift my other leg. The tremors send jolts through the car, making every movement unsteady, but I force myself to stay balanced, careful not to slip.
Both feet now rest on the lower seat's edge, bringing me closer to the open door. One of my forearms worm their way outside, feeling for something—anything—to grip onto. The air is thick with dust, the world around me still shaking, but I don't stop. I can't.
I grope blindly outside the car, searching for anything to hold onto, but there's nothing. Just empty air and the crumbling edge of the fissure. Fear slowly grips me instead, coiling around my chest tighter than any seatbelt ever could. The tremors only make it worse, shaking the car like a death rattle.
Is this really how I'm going to die again? A third time?
The irony isn't lost on me. First, I died in a car crash in my original world. Then, after transmigrating into a cultivation realm, I was run over by a damn golden chariot before I could even get past the Body Tempering stage. And now? Now, apparently in Dragon Ball, I'm about to be buried alive in the earth—again with a car?!
A bitter laugh bubbles in my throat. "What's up with me and vehicles?"
I'm sick of this. If I'm going to die, I might as well die trying.
Gritting my teeth, I reach deep into my memory, searching for the most basic energy circulation technique from my last world. It was meant for tempering the body, strengthening it until it could rival steel at the highest level. I never got that far, of course—two years wasn't nearly enough—but my foundation was solid. I remember enough.
I shut out the chaos around me and focus inward, directing my breath through my lower dantian. The Yongquan node at the soles of my feet, the Huiyin at the base of my spine, the Mingmen at my lower back—I visualize the energy coursing through them, igniting my dormant strength. From there, I guide it upward along the Dazhui near my neck, then split the flow down my arms toward the Laogong in my palms, while simultaneously concentrating the rest in my legs through the Chong Mai meridian.
The moment I apply the circulation, a warmth spreads through my limbs, coiling in my legs like a loaded spring. When I push off the car seat, I can feel the difference. My legs surge with newfound power. It works.
I set my eyes on the entrance. The car is now only a few feet away from the surface. If I hesitate now, I'll lose my chance.
I bend down, muscles tensing against the edge of the seat. My posture is not stable enough from the angle I'm to guarantee success, my whole body quivering. Whether it's the shaking of the whole island or my own nerves causing this is anyone's guess. Still, I have to make the jump that will surely push the car even lower. It's all or nothing.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trusting that I can still jump high enough to clear the edge and escape.
And so I do, feeling the sudden loss of gravity, and notice how many more seconds I actually take before landing on what seems like… the cement road?
I open my eyes. It is! I can't believe it! I really did it!
Looks like the Qi from the cultivation world does translate to Ki here in Dragon Ball. This could change everything!
I shout at the top of my lungs, "Yes! Take that! There's no way I'll get crushed by a car again!"
Thunder responds. Sparkles of energy lift some of the strands of my hair. The air crackles, streaks of electricity illuminating the sky. The wind howls, drawn toward the direction I can only assume Piccolo is in, as if feeding him. Tornadoes spiral into existence.
I stop celebrating, instincts screaming at me to run. I push off the ground, tapping into what little Ki I have left. My legs feel lighter, my speed sharper, but I'm still nowhere near as fast as the car I barely escaped from.
Cracks now web across the cement road, splintering across its surface. As I run, more crevices tear open, forcing me to adjust my pace. Small rocks levitate, caught in the pull of the massive energy field. One slab of rock jolts upward near my foot, nearly throwing me off balance. Not to mention this immense quake increasing in intensity makes maintaining balance even more challenging.
The shore comes into view, just below a steep cliff—one I have no doubt would get me injured if I jump from it—and through a dense foliage of trees. Of course, airplanes only land on the airport's runway. Why would they even bother developing this area of the island? How freaking convenient!
The ship's dock is likely elsewhere, leaving this part of the shore undeveloped. Sea travel could be an option, but as I squint my eyes, my hopes are crushed—a ship is already sailing away, shrinking into a distant dot against the horizon.
What's a mere set of broken bones compared to getting vaporized?
I take a deep breath and leap off the cliff. The air rushes past me in a blur, my stomach twisting at the sheer drop. The impact sends a jolt through my entire body, my feet absorbing the shock as pain ripples up my legs. I nearly collapse, knees buckling from the force—but I'm still standing. I'm intact.
Ki is amazing!
The salty tang of the ocean fills the air, and just by looking at the waves crashing a few hundred meters away, I can almost taste it. Freedom is so close I can feel it. I turn, ready to sprint through the trees toward the shore—
Then, a blinding flash of light erupts behind me, swallowing the sky in white and yellow.
I turn around, heart hammering in my chest. Even with the cliff blocking most of my view, the peak of the explosion's dome still looms over the horizon, an ominous curve of blinding energy swallowing the sky.
At least I'm not gonna die from a vehicle this time, right?
The dome expands, engulfing everything in its path. The sheer energy reaches me in an instant, a wave of scorching heat searing my skin. For a fleeting moment, all I know is light and fire. The last thing I hear is the howling and whining of air displaced everywhere as it joins the roar of the explosion.
Then nothing.
Light pieces my eyes. Am I in another world again? Dang it!
Small clouds drift around me, no matter which direction I look—a strange sight in an even stranger world.
I take a deep breath, willing myself not to break down over the fact that I never got to truly live in the world of Dragon Ball. Instead, all I can do is sit here in my new body.
Except... my limbs are gone.
A sinking feeling settles in as I glance down. Where my body should be, there's only a wispy, translucent mass of white—like a cloud given shape but lacking any real substance.
Wait a second.
Aren't I the same as those other masses seeing surrounding me? Heck, upon closer inspection, they're not even clouds at all. They shift, they move with purpose—real, conscious entities drifting in midair!
They're souls!
And I'm the same.
Am I still in Dragon Ball, but in Other World?
Power Levels:
Carson - 8
Goku - 360
Piccolo - 350