With The Paragons' official establishment complete, the selection event concluded. As the ceremony wound down and crowds began dispersing, Smith caught Tony's eye and spoke quietly. "There's something I need to discuss with you privately."
Tony met his gaze with equal seriousness. "Interesting. I have something to discuss with you as well."
The two men excused themselves and headed backstage to a private room. Smith paused at the door to give Eddie Brock clear instructions. "Don't let anyone interrupt us. No exceptions."
Eddie nodded understanding, positioning himself to ensure privacy.
Inside the room, only Smith and Tony remained. The sounds of the dispersing crowd were muffled by thick walls, creating a bubble of isolation perfect for sensitive conversation.
Tony gestured slightly. "You brought it up first. Go ahead."
Smith drew a breath, organizing his thoughts. "There's something I feel obligated to tell you—information that directly affects your situation."
He continued carefully. "Over the years, as Dragon Ball cycles have completed, the dragon's strength has been recovering. The scope and capability of wishes granted have been expanding progressively."
Tony's attention sharpened, his engineering mind immediately recognizing the implications.
Smith met his eyes directly. "Xu Wenwu's wife died years ago. This cycle, she was successfully resurrected with no complications. Her death occurred far beyond the original one-year limitation I mentioned previously."
Understanding bloomed across Tony's face—they were discussing the same topic he'd intended to raise. "You told me before about souls. That hasn't changed?"
Smith shook his head firmly. "The fundamental rule remains constant. If the soul no longer exists—if it's been destroyed or completely dissipated—not even Shenron can retrieve it."
He raised one hand in qualification. "But in the current situation, as long as the soul still exists somewhere and hasn't been reincarnated or suffered true death, the dragon has the ability to return it to the living world. Natural deaths from old age still fall outside that scope, but violent deaths, accidents, murders—those are all reversible now."
Tony nodded slowly, processing the updated parameters. Then his brow furrowed slightly. "What do you mean by 'the dragon recovering'? You haven't mentioned that aspect before."
Thinking ahead to the eventual Super Dragon Ball evolution his system might offer, Smith chose his words with care. "Shenron's power isn't limited to current capabilities. He's regaining his full strength step by step as time progresses and cycles complete."
Tony's eyebrows rose sharply at that revelation. "So the dragon is more than just those seven orbs, and wish-granting carries no negative consequences for the wisher?"
His expression grew more concerned. "Will Shenron pose a threat to Earth after regaining his complete power? Are we feeding something that will eventually turn on us?"
Smith looked at Tony's genuine worry and couldn't suppress a slight grin. He spread his hands with theatrical flair. "Alright, I won't hide it anymore. Actually, I am the dragon. Surprise."
Tony didn't even pause at the joke. Instead, he poked Smith's side with the electronic pen he'd been holding, his tone carrying dry amusement. "Maybe if you claimed to be a monkey, I'd find that more convincing given your current accessories."
He gestured toward Smith's waist. "Seriously though, when did you develop this fetish for decorative foreign objects? Walking around wearing an ornamental tail around your waist like some kind of fashion statement."
During their conversation, Tony had noticed the tail Smith kept wrapped around his midsection. He'd initially assumed it was decorative—some eccentric style choice. But the more he looked at it, the more something seemed off about the assumption.
Smith thought privately: You actually guessed correctly. Honestly, I really am a Saiyan monkey.
Of course, "monkey" was just nickname terminology. Technically they were Saiyans—a proud warrior race, not actual simians.
Smith's tail unwrapped from his waist and extended behind him, moving with obvious muscular control like a fifth limb. "Maybe this is a side effect of my ability awakening process. But it's not inconvenient at all—actually serves as a powerful weapon when needed."
Tony stared at the moving tail with scientific fascination overriding surprise. "You really have regressed into a monkey. Remarkable."
He tilted his head analytically. "Some babies are born with vestigial tails, though those are typically removed surgically. Yours is exceptionally rare—functional rather than vestigial."
Tony accepted Smith's extra tail with remarkable ease. Although initially surprised, he could understand it within the context of everything else he'd witnessed. Enhanced individuals manifested all kinds of unusual physiological adaptations.
Then his thoughts returned to more personal matters—his parents, dead for so many years now. His expression grew serious and determined. "Seems like I need to commit everything to the next Dragon Ball championship. Go all-in with preparation and resources."
His voice carried quiet intensity. "After all, the longer I delay, the greater the risk that something could happen to their souls. Reincarnation, dissipation, unknown factors—every cycle that passes is another opportunity for something to go wrong."
Smith nodded acknowledgment. "Prepare thoroughly. The opponents in future tournaments will be progressively tougher—entities seeking wishes will escalate in power and desperation."
He paused deliberately, then offered something he rarely extended. "Of course, if you want me to arrange a backdoor advantage, I'm not opposed to helping you."
Smith thought about his second wish slot—the dual-wish dragon configuration now active. Tony was genuinely good to him, a like-minded partner and friend. If Tony failed in tournament competition, Smith could potentially grant him the second wish as compensation. The option existed.
Tony's expression shifted to something more complex—gratitude mixed with stubborn pride. "Thank you, Smith. Genuinely."
His jaw set with determination. "But I'll only consider that option if I truly can't win the championship through my own efforts. I'd rather earn it legitimately."
Tony had actually advised Smith multiple times not to publicize Dragon Ball wish-granting so openly. He'd always felt the practice was dangerous—inviting catastrophic attention from entities Earth wasn't prepared to handle. But since his parents' resurrection was personally at stake, he couldn't voice those concerns without hypocrisy.
Though he maintained considerable confidence in his armor development capabilities, the world's true depths were far more complicated and outrageous than he'd previously understood. Gods, immortals, thousand-year-old warlords, cosmic entities—the playing field exceeded anything his original worldview had encompassed.
Seeing Tony's genuine thanks despite his stubborn insistence on earning victory independently, Smith reached out and clapped him on the shoulder with rough affection. Then he turned and left the room, leaving Tony to his thoughts about preparation and the future.
Hours later, inside S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Tesseract research base, the situation had escalated from theoretical danger to immediate crisis.
Nick stared at the armored figure who'd appeared from dimensional breach, his hand still resting on his sidearm. "Sir, please put down your spear."
Loki looked down at the scepter in his hand, then back at the dark-skinned man addressing him with such presumption. This backward native actually called the Mind Stone scepter—an artifact of immense magical power—a mere spear? Such ignorant existence.
A cruel smile curved Loki's lips. Let me educate you primitive natives.
Loki thrust the scepter forward with sudden violence. The gem mounted at its tip blazed with brilliant light, firing concentrated laser energy directly at Nick Fury.
Hawkeye, positioned with perfect situational awareness, had noticed the shift in Loki's posture microseconds before the attack. He threw himself sideways, tackling Nick to the ground just as energy discharge tore through the space the Director's head had occupied moments earlier.
The beam struck equipment behind them, detonating control panels in showers of sparks and shrapnel.
Seeing Loki launch hostile action, the tactical response team members positioned around the chamber's perimeter immediately opened fire. Assault rifles barked in controlled bursts, bullets converging on Loki's position.
The rounds struck Asgardian armor and enchanted flesh, creating sparks of metal-on-metal collision but causing no apparent damage. Loki didn't even flinch—he simply leaped forward with superhuman agility, clearing the distance to the nearest agent in a single bound.
The scepter flashed in a lethal arc. The tactical team member died instantly, throat crushed by the weapon's shaft before he could even register the killing blow.
Other agents rushed Loki from multiple angles, trying to overwhelm him through coordinated assault. Their attacks proved utterly futile. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off Asgardian battle gear. Close combat attempts were countered with contemptuous ease.
Loki spun gracefully, his free hand gesturing with theatrical flair. Conjured daggers materialized from thin air and shot outward like thrown darts, finding vulnerable points in body armor with preternatural accuracy. Agents dropped one after another, killed by wounds that seemed impossibly precise.
Everything happened within seconds—a demonstration of the vast gulf between Asgardian combat capabilities and baseline human training. The underground base contained numerous additional agents, all now raising weapons and opening fire on the intruder with desperate intensity.
Their attacks accomplished nothing meaningful. Loki moved through the hail of bullets like water flowing around stones—untouched, unhurried, utterly unconcerned. He killed methodically, each strike eliminating another defender.
One agent charged with a combat knife, attempting close-quarters engagement. Loki kicked him almost casually—the impact sent the man flying backward to slam against concrete walls with bone-shattering force. He slid to the floor and didn't move again.
These tactical response team members, who appeared formidable and dangerous to ordinary civilians, were revealed as helpless infants before Loki's power.