Favorability Breaks 100%

"Oh? It seems our champion is in quite a hurry!"

The Host stood awkwardly by the rubble, trophy in hand, watching Krillin's retreating figure as he scrambled to save face.

"He must be eager to share the joy of victory with the audience!"

Joy it was, but that joy belonged to only one person.

On the second-floor viewing platform.

Bulma stared at the figure hurtling toward her, her heart pounding so fast it felt like it might burst through her chest.

She'd put extra care into her makeup today, deliberately applying a light pink lipstick—the shade Krillin had complimented last time.

The explosion moments ago had nearly scared her heart out of her throat, but seeing Krillin safe and sound, the wild relief of surviving that close call instantly transformed into something far more intense.

"That bastard... showing off like that."

Bulma cursed under her breath, but her body betrayed her as she stepped forward two paces, gripping the railing until her knuckles went white.

Instead of his usual abrupt stop, Krillin used precise Muscle Control to land lightly right in front of Bulma.

The scent of gunpowder from the battle still clung to him—the rawest catalyst for male pheromones.

Puar, Oolong, and even Master Roshi instinctively backed away, clearing a circle around them.

"Hey, Bulma."

Krillin grinned, flashing a row of white teeth, his bald head gleaming brightly under the setting sun.

"I won. Time to cash in on that promise, right?"

Bulma stared at the face so close to hers.

The lack of a nose was still a bit odd, but those eyes... deep, confident, brimming with aggression.

This was no longer that pervy little bald kid from before, but a man strong enough to split the Earth in two with his fists.

"You... idiot!"

Bulma felt her eyes sting. She didn't want to cry—it would ruin her makeup—but her voice came out choked.

"What the hell was that messy move just now! You scared me to death! What if you'd died?"

"Relax."

Krillin took a step forward, closing the gap to less than ten centimeters.

He could even feel the heat of Bulma's rapid breaths against his chest.

"As long as you're on Earth, I won't let it blow up. After all..."

Krillin paused, her flustered face reflected in his eyes.

"After all, my future Wife is still up here."

"Who... who's your Wife!"

Bulma's face flushed bright red like a ripe tomato. Even with her fiery personality, being teased like this in front of tens of thousands of people was too much.

"Don't... don't flatter yourself!"

"Oh yeah? Then who was it that said she'd marry me if I won?"

Krillin didn't give Bulma a chance to keep tsundere-ing.

In his system task bar, the progress for [Thoroughly Conquer Bulma] had been stuck at 99% for a long time.

The remaining 1% didn't require Battle Power—it required action.

He reached out, his movement both domineering and gentle, and wrapped his arm around Bulma's slender waist.

Bulma let out a yelp as she crashed into Krillin's solid embrace.

Those muscles, tempered through countless trials, were hard as iron yet hot as fire.

"Since I'm the champion, I might as well take a champion's prize."

Before the words faded, Krillin lowered his head and, under the gaze of tens of thousands of spectators, dozens of cameras, and a planet-wide broadcast, pressed his lips firmly against Bulma's.

"Mmph!"

Bulma's eyes went wide, her mind blank.

This kiss wasn't like the tentative one in the bamboo grove last time. It was full of possessiveness and a declaration of ownership.

He was telling the whole world: this woman belongs to this bald man.

Dead silence reigned over the stands for about three seconds.

Then, the screams erupted even more wildly than when Krillin had won the Tournament.

"Whoa!!!"

"They're kissing! They're actually kissing!"

"How romantic! Is this the privilege of the strong?"

"Mom! I want to learn martial arts too! I want to go bald!"

In the corner, Yamcha watched the scene unfold, the drink cup in his hand bursting with a sharp crack.

But he didn't rush over to fight. Instead, he let out a long sigh, a bitter, resigned smile spreading across his face.

"I lost... whether it's fighting or chasing girls, I lost completely."

Puar floated beside him, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

"It's okay, Puar."

Yamcha wiped his face, though the corners of his eyes were still a little wet.

"At least losing to the world champion isn't shameful. And... that guy really is more fit to protect Bulma than I am."

On the other side, Master Roshi's eyes bulged wide behind his Sunglasses, and two streams of nose blood flowed disgracefully down.

"Young people these days... they're way too reckless! In front of such a big crowd..."

"Hehehe, but well done! As expected of a Turtle School disciple! This is what youth is all about!"

Below the Arena, Goku, holding the trophy with a clueless look, scratched his head and asked Tien Shinhan, who was equally dumbfounded beside him.

"What are they doing? Is that some kind of training method for passing ki to each other?"

All three of Tien Shinhan's eyes twitched at once.

"Goku... just go think about what to eat. This kind of thing is way too early for you."