The winged henchman froze in shock.
"What?!"
"Shen was a warrior you just gave birth to after regaining your youth—he was that strong, and he still got killed?"
"Could it be… some martial artist's trap? A conspiracy?"
Demon King Piccolo clenched his fist, jaw tight.
"I don't know."
"I'll contact Russell and ask what happened."
He narrowed his eyes and reached out with his mind—
But before his consciousness could connect—
A bolt of lightning seemed to split through his thoughts again.
Piccolo's legs actually trembled.
"…Impossible."
The henchman stared blankly. "A-Again…? Lord Demon King, what is it now?"
Piccolo's face darkened.
"Russell is dead too."
The henchman's blood ran cold.
"T-That can't be…"
"Three hundred years ago, no one in this world could kill Demon Clan warriors!"
"But in such a short time… three of our warriors have already been killed. This isn't right!"
Then Piccolo's pupils shrank violently.
"Damn it…!"
The henchman swallowed hard. "W-What now, Lord Demon King?"
Piccolo's forehead gleamed with sweat.
"Bukanda is dead as well."
His voice dropped into something almost disbelieving.
"What did they run into…? Did they not even have the power to escape?"
Hearing all three deaths, the henchman's knees went weak.
Piccolo gripped the armrest of the throne until it creaked, a cold pressure swelling in his chest.
It had a name.
Fear.
For the first time in hundreds of years, Demon King Piccolo tasted that emotion.
The henchman's voice shook as he tried to make sense of it.
"Lord Demon King… could it be that while you were sealed inside that rice cooker, humans spent centuries preparing for a monster like you—pushing martial arts to the limit—until someone truly terrifying was born?"
Piccolo took a slow breath.
"I don't know."
"But anyone who can slaughter my three warriors so cleanly…"
"That strength is not comparable to the martial artists from before my seal."
"Even Mutaito—the one who sealed me—couldn't have done this."
His eyes became heavy, calculating.
"So Danban's death wasn't an accident."
"Perhaps… the martial artist who killed Shen and the others…"
"…has already reached my level."
The henchman's face went pale.
"Then… what do we do?"
His eyes flickered, a thought forming—then he voiced it carefully.
"Should we… hide first? Let me observe the situation before we move?"
Piccolo exploded.
"Bastard! You want me to hide?! What kind of words are those!"
The henchman shrank back instantly, not daring to speak.
Piccolo's chest rose and fell—then he forced his tone back into control.
"Even if the opponent is strong, I, Demon King Piccolo, will never retreat."
"And besides… I don't believe I can truly lose to anyone."
He turned his head slightly, gaze sharpening like a blade.
"But…"
"Even if I'm not confident I can kill that man…"
"I cannot allow my Demon Clan to be extinguished."
The henchman blinked, stunned.
"Lord Demon King… you mean…?"
Piccolo nodded, his voice low and decisive.
"That's right."
"The Demon Clan cannot exist without an heir."
"After being sealed for centuries… I should have left my offspring long ago."
If he had already had an heir, even if he was sealed—
Once the child grew, it could sense him, find him, and free him.
Piccolo's expression hardened.
And then he began… to create life.
The process wasn't much different from birthing warriors.
But the cost was on an entirely different level.
Piccolo poured out the majority of his strength.
At last—
He vomited forth a single egg.
His breathing came rough.
But his eyes were burning.
He placed everything into it—his martial memories, his training methods, his essence.
The henchman hurried forward, alarmed.
"Lord Demon King! Are you alright?"
Piccolo waved him off, forcing a thin smile.
"I'm fine."
"I'll bask in the sun… rest a bit… and I'll recover."
"I-I'll fetch you water!" the henchman stammered.
He rushed off and returned with a massive cup.
Piccolo drank it all in one go, the tension in his body loosening—just slightly.
Then he lifted the egg and shoved it into the henchman's arms.
His voice turned cold, commanding.
"This mission is yours."
"Take my child. Raise him. Protect him."
"If I lose to that man…"
"Do not let my child emerge early."
"Train him. Let him grow."
"One day… he will avenge me."
The henchman hesitated, then asked carefully:
"Lord Demon King… even if someone could quickly kill our three warriors…"
"Is it really possible that he is stronger than you?"
Piccolo's mouth curled into a crooked grin.
"Of course not."
"I don't believe anyone can kill me."
"I've simply been burned once."
"That makes me… cautious."
He leaned back, eyes glittering with vicious certainty.
"This child is my insurance."
"With him in existence, I can fight without restraint."
"Being defeated is unlikely."
"But if I'm sealed again…"
"…once he is born, he can use our bond to find me and free me from whatever prison holds me."
The henchman dropped to one knee, head bowed.
"Lord Demon King… rest assured."
"I will raise the Demon Clan's heir to adulthood."
"Go," Piccolo said.
The henchman spread his wings and shot into the sky, carrying the egg far away from the King's Castle.
Not long after—
A squadron of fighter jets appeared above the castle.
Piccolo stepped outside, cloak fluttering.
In the next instant, shells rained down like a storm.
Boom—boom—BOOM!
The earth was torn open, crater after crater blooming across the ground.
Smoke swallowed everything.
But when the dust finally cleared—
Piccolo stood alone in the center of the devastation.
Unmoved.
Untouched.
Not even a scratch on him.
He lifted his chin and smiled with cruel delight.
"A bunch of insects… daring to provoke me."
"Courting death."
He gathered his energy into his arm—
Then swung his hand upward like he was brushing away dust.
In a flash, multiple blasts swept across the sky.
Fighter jets exploded one after another, turning into fireballs that rained down.
More missiles streaked in next—
But Piccolo casually fired off a few Demon Light Cannons.
The missiles detonated mid-flight, erased before they could even reach him.
Inside the castle, the imprisoned King watched with trembling pupils.
"H-He really… isn't afraid of missiles…"
In front of televisions everywhere, countless people had still clung to one last hope.
Maybe modern weapons can kill him.
But the moment they saw Piccolo swat jets out of the sky and erase missiles like toys—
That final hope was crushed.
Instantly.
A deeper, colder despair flooded the hearts of ordinary people.
There was no question anymore.
This world was about to fall into darkness.
In a distant home, Snow and her family stared at the broadcast, pale and sweating.
Snow was afraid too.
But when she saw Piccolo destroy so many aircraft—
For some reason, her mind flashed back to the boy from three years ago.
The boy who had defeated the Red Ribbon Army.
Goku.
A strange, stubborn thread of hope rose in her chest.
She lifted her gaze toward the ceiling and whispered:
"It's been years… he must be even stronger now, right?"
"I wonder if he'll appear…"
"Can he… defeat him?"
But then Piccolo's terrifying power replayed in her mind.
Her whole body went cold.
In her heart, she was torn—
Afraid that Goku would come…
And yet desperately wishing he would.
…
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