Making a Wish to the Demon Realm Dragon

The weightless sensation of crossing spatial dimensions vanished in an instant. The moment their boots touched solid ground again, the air that greeted them carried the Second Demon Realm's Home Planet's distinctive scent, mingled with sulfur and ancient resin.

The Ancient Dragon Clan's Lookout still loomed atop that solitary Floating Rock Pillar.

Demon Realm Rock, its dark green and deep purple hues intertwined, exuded an unchanging desolation beneath the crimson sky.

The group passed through the towering arched stone gates and entered the Lookout's vast, inverted-funnel-shaped hall once more.

The dark green crystal floor tiles beneath their feet rippled like water with every step.

At the center of the hall, the black-gold triangular pedestal floating in midair, built specifically to hold the Demon Realm Dragon Balls, radiated visible waves of highly concentrated Magic Power.

Without wasting a moment, Neba leaned on his ancient-looking Wooden Staff and hurried toward the pedestal.

The old man's hands emerged from his loose dark purple cloak as he accepted the three Demon Realm Dragon Balls, glowing with a faint dark light, from Krillin.

One-Star, Two-Star, Three-Star.

The three orbs, their surfaces engraved with strange dragon patterns, were solemnly placed into the grooves of the black-gold pedestal.

The instant the final orb settled into place, the three immediately resonated with one another's Magic Power.

A deep hum echoed through the empty Lookout. The ancient formation beneath the pedestal fully activated, and a circle of dazzling red light spread wildly outward along the patterns in the floor tiles.

Neba took two steps back and held his Wooden Staff across his chest, his withered face becoming incomparably solemn.

He drew a deep breath and began chanting an invocation known only to the ancient dragon clan, his hoarse voice scraping like sandpaper.

"Antonica... Gulabara... Hagamiga!"

(I made that up.)