A swarm of ghostly figures materialized, their whispers like the taunts of demons crawling from the depths of hell. From the ominous shadow of the Demon Star hanging in the sky, a torrent of dark energy poured forth, feeding the swirling black vortex that grew ever closer.
It was the Dead Zone, a dimension capable of devouring all existence—Garlic Jr.'s ultimate gambit to eliminate Piccolo for good. Of course, he lacked the power to command such cosmic forces alone. Behind his assault was the sorceress of the Demon Realm, Towa, who had torn open the rift to the Dead Zone on his behalf.
A powerful gravitational pull warped reality itself, threatening to drag the entire Lookout into the void. The wraiths descended, tearing at the flesh of Piccolo and the Guardian with ravenous, shrieking cries.
"Hahahaha, die! Die!" Garlic Jr. cackled, his voice shrill with delight.
He relentlessly fired ki blasts, aiming directly for the old Guardian. Piccolo, battered and struggling, was forced to use his own body as a shield, absorbing the barrage of energy to protect him. The wind howled like a hurricane as smoke and dust billowed across the platform. The acrid stench of burnt energy stung the air, bringing tears to the two young Namekians' eyes. Huddled behind Piccolo, the old Guardian trembled, his robe blackened with ash, his eyes reflecting nothing but the chaotic dance of light and shadow.
Finally, Piccolo's white cape, shredded by the onslaught, fell away in tatters. A cruel smile spread across Garlic Jr.'s face. So arrogant, he thought, savoring the moment. And in the end, you still fall before me.
Piccolo was indeed exhausted, but the physical punishment was the least of his worries. The true drain was the Guardian's fading life force. As their lives were intrinsically linked, the Guardian's quiet passing was dragging Piccolo down into a spiral of weakness he could not escape.
"I never thought it would end like this..." Piccolo panted, his voice laced with frustration. "What an irony!"
"Perhaps... this is not over yet."
The Guardian's voice, though quiet, cut through the chaos and reached Piccolo's ears. A sobbing Mr. Popo and the two children looked up, their faces stained with tears. The terrified Guardian seemed to have found his resolve—his trembling ceased, and a serene calm washed over his features.
His eyes burned with an indestructible fire.
"Piccolo, I am old, and I am useless," the Guardian began. "As stronger enemies have emerged, my only remaining purpose has been the Dragon Balls. But..." He turned to Dende and Cargo, offering a kind, satisfied smile. "These two have already mastered that art. It seems I no longer have even that."
"Raditz once told me that we are two halves of a single being. That if we were to unite again, we could unleash the true power of a genius Namekian. I hesitated for so long, held back by the evil that once defined you. But I have watched you change. Your only desire now is to grow stronger... to protect others. Is that because of Raditz, or young Gohan, I wonder?" He offered a rare, playful smile, his voice filled with pride for the warrior Piccolo had become.
For years, he had watched from the Lookout as Saiyans, Earthlings, and even Piccolo himself surpassed the gods. In crisis after crisis, he, the Guardian of Earth, could only stand by helplessly. Was he even worthy of the title? He had begun to believe his only value was the Dragon Balls. But when Dende and Cargo arrived, he felt his last purpose fade away. Now, in this final moment, he understood. His true value wasn't as a standalone Guardian, but as the other half of Piccolo. The Great Demon King and the Guardian, reunited to forge the ultimate protector.
Wasn't that what a Guardian was truly meant to do?
"The time has come," he declared. "Piccolo and Kami must be one again."
Fusion was the only way to sever the link that was draining Piccolo's strength. The Guardian had made the most logical—and courageous—decision of his long life. Piccolo understood the gravity of this act, having already assimilated with Nail and Slug.[ He knew both parties had to be willing. He never expected the Guardian to be the one to propose it.
"Grandpa!" Dende and Cargo cried, clinging to the Guardian with a desperate reluctance.
"You are both brilliant students," the Guardian said, his voice warm. "Mr. Popo will guide you from here."
He looked to Piccolo. "Come."
"Then... I will not refuse," Piccolo said, his voice heavy with the weight of the moment. He turned, his movements strained under the immense pressure, and placed a hand on the Guardian's chest.
A soft light enveloped them, blooming outward like a silken veil. From the heart of the encroaching darkness, a brilliant white light erupted in defiance, blazing like a newborn star. The vortex's pull intensified, lifting them from the ground like weightless leaves amidst a storm of flames, smoke, and chaotic energy.
Then, in an instant—everything stopped.
An immense power surged from the epicenter of the light, so overwhelming it brought time and space to a standstill. The Dead Zone's pull ceased. Garlic Jr.'s ecstatic grin froze on his face. Debris hung suspended in mid-air. In that moment, the newly reborn warrior controlled reality itself.
When the light faded, Piccolo stood reborn. His tattered gi was restored, and a fresh white cape and turban adorned his form, marking his complete renewal. He was no longer affected by the Guardian's state; he was whole. The Guardian's pure will had purged the last lingering remnants of Slug's malevolence. The Piccolo that stood there now was, in a word, perfect.
Fusing the wisdom of the Guardian with the raw power of Nail and Slug, his strength had skyrocketed past the level of a typical Super Saiyan 2, placing him on the very threshold of its peak. This was a force that made the Earth tremble and the Demon Realm shake.
Everyone stared in stunned silence at the figure in the white cape, their minds blank.
"Begone."
In a flash, Piccolo was before Garlic Jr. He seized the stunned demon by the head and, with no room for resistance, hurled him directly into the vortex of the Dead Zone. Paralyzed by the sheer pressure of Piccolo's power, Garlic Jr. couldn't move a muscle. All he could manage was a choked gurgle as he vanished into the abyss. Next, Piccolo flared his aura. The wave of pure energy instantly vaporized every last specter haunting the Lookout.
"Special Beam Cannon!"
Without needing to charge, Piccolo thrust two fingers forward. A spiraling beam of impossibly dense energy erupted, a drill of pure power designed not just to pierce flesh, but to tear through the fabric of reality itself. The beam struck the Dead Zone's portal. The vortex violently expanded, shuddered, and then collapsed in on itself. It shattered like glass, disintegrating into nothingness.
BOOM!
A tremendous explosion echoed from beyond their dimension, its aftershock rocking both the Lookout and the planet below. Amidst the fading tremor, only Piccolo remained, hovering silently in the sky, his white cape billowing in the now-calm air.