While the entire world was drowning in panic, a single figure suddenly appeared on screen.
It was none other than Goku—cutting through the sky at terrifying speed.
Across the planet, people watching their televisions went wide-eyed.
"T-That person… is he flying?!"
At the broadcast site, the Tenkaichi Budokai referee nearly shouted from excitement.
"H-He's the champion of this year's World Martial Arts Tournament—Son Goku!"
"I can't believe he can fly!"
A woman beside him frowned, still doubtful.
"Son Goku? He dares to challenge Demon King Piccolo… but is he really that strong?"
The referee clenched his fists like a believer who finally saw hope.
"Yes! He's strong—very strong!"
"At the tournament, he even killed one of Piccolo's underlings… and saved my life!"
The woman stared at the screen, voice turning soft with awe.
"Then… the purpose of the tournament all these years…"
"…wasn't meaningless."
"The task of saving the world has finally fallen onto the greatest martial artist among humans."
"Yes," the referee said, almost trembling. "That's exactly it!"
Far away, Snow's eyes lit up the instant she saw him.
"Dad! Mom! Look—th-that's Goku…!"
Her parents leaned closer, stunned.
"You mean that little Son Goku?"
"He… he's grown up."
Snow's mother smiled warmly.
"It really is him."
"In the blink of an eye, three years passed… and that little boy is so tall now."
Snow's fists tightened at her chest, excitement bursting through her fear.
"Yeah… he's taller."
"And… he's so handsome now…"
But the next second, her face fell.
"B-But… he's really going to challenge the Demon King?"
"Even jets and missiles didn't work…"
"…can he actually win?"
Her mother patted her head gently.
"Snow, Goku isn't an ordinary person."
"Back then, the Red Ribbon Army had weapons everywhere, and he still wiped them out completely."
"I believe he'll defeat Demon King Piccolo too."
"Really…?" Snow's eyes trembled with hope.
"Really," her parents said together, nodding firmly.
At Kame House, Bulma and the others were also glued to the TV.
The moment Goku appeared, the room's air tightened.
"He's flying so fast…"
"Only a little while ago—and he's already reached the King's Castle!"
Bulma clasped her hands, half relieved, half frantic.
"Thank goodness Piccolo hasn't gone to West City yet!"
"Goku… you have to win."
"You have to kill Demon King Piccolo, got it?!"
At the castle, Piccolo watched Goku approach with a mocking smile.
"Heh… you know the Flying Technique?"
"And you actually flew here?"
"That consumes a lot of stamina."
"So you're confident in your strength, huh?"
He spread his arms, smug to the bone.
"Too bad."
"I, Demon King Piccolo, am invincible!"
A heartbeat later, Goku landed—standing directly opposite him.
Goku looked him up and down, calm and sharp.
"So you really did regain your youth."
"Let me ask you something."
"Did you kill Shenron too?"
Piccolo chuckled like it was a clever joke.
"You even guessed that?"
"Yes."
"Why would I allow you insects to gather the Dragon Balls later and threaten my rule?"
"The moment I regained my youth…"
"…was the moment Shenron died."
Goku nodded once, expression unreadable.
"I see."
"But your information is three hundred years out of date."
"While you were sealed away, this world produced many strong fighters."
"Those who can kill you aren't limited to Shenron."
"…There are others."
"Me included."
Piccolo's eyes narrowed as he studied him like a predator.
"Were you the one who killed Shen and the others?"
Goku answered without hesitation.
"Yeah."
"The warriors you gave birth to were too weak."
"I wasn't even careful… and I still killed them all."
Piccolo's smile vanished.
He raised a hand slowly, fingers spread like a guillotine.
"Five seconds."
"In five seconds, I can kill you."
He roared and snapped forward—his hand blade slicing down at Goku with explosive speed.
Goku's gaze turned cold.
He lifted one arm lazily—
And stopped it.
Just like that.
Piccolo's pupils shrank.
He couldn't understand it.
His strike had been too fast to see—yet Goku not only caught it…
He blocked it cleanly.
Piccolo pulled back instantly and threw a heavy punch.
Goku raised his hand again—
And caught Piccolo's fist.
Piccolo tried to rip his arm free.
But Goku's grip was like iron.
It didn't budge.
"Let go!" Piccolo snarled, veins bulging as he yanked.
Instead, Goku tightened his hold on Piccolo's wrist—
And threw him over his shoulder.
The Demon King of Terror—
Was sent flying like a rag doll.
He crashed through a corner of the King's Castle, stone exploding outward, before his body finally stopped.
On TV, Master Roshi practically exploded with joy.
"He blocked it…!"
The movements were too fast to follow clearly—
But the result was undeniable.
Goku had stopped Piccolo's attack.
And tossed him away.
Roshi's hands trembled as his excitement turned into certainty.
"Goku's strength… has exceeded everything I understand!"
Blue-haired Launch blinked rapidly, then turned to Roshi.
"You can tell the difference that fast…?"
"Will Goku win?"
Bulma blurted out immediately, voice fierce and emotional.
"Of course he will!"
"Goku has never lost!"
"Did you see Piccolo get slammed like that?!"
Roshi nodded hard.
"If Demon King Piccolo isn't hiding some terrifying power…"
"…then yes."
"With what we've seen… Goku can win!"
Piccolo climbed out of the rubble, face twisted with rage.
Veins crawled across his forehead.
His aura surged—he was clearly forcing his power higher.
"You bastard…"
"You've angered me."
"Prepare to die!"
He launched himself forward again—
But instead of closing in for close combat, he spread his arms wide.
A blast of energy shot straight at Goku.
Goku hopped back lightly and avoided it with ease.
Piccolo's mouth curled into a cruel smile.
In the air… dodging won't be that easy.
"Die!" Piccolo roared, firing again—another energy wave streaking toward Goku.
He expected Goku to be blown apart—
But at the moment the attack reached him…
Goku calmly swung his palm.
Smack.
He batted the energy wave away like he was swatting a fly.
The blast flew off into the distance—
And detonated against a mountain.
BOOM!
The mountain collapsed into rubble in an instant.
Piccolo's scalp went numb.
Cold sweat spread across his forehead.
Even he couldn't do something like that.
His fear—real, involuntary fear—forced him back half a step.
He pointed at Goku, voice cracking with disbelief.
"Y-You…"
"Who are you?"
"Who are you… really?"
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