Evil Containment Wave

Dark Forest had no name. King Piccolo had been sealed here three hundred years ago, and ever since, sunlight had never pierced this forest again. Vines and thorns grew wildly in the eternal darkness, and even birds flew around it.

Master Roshi stood at the forest's edge. His ever-present staff rested by his feet, and the equally ever-present turtle shell was strapped to his back. But he was not wearing his floral shirt. Instead, he wore a plain white training uniform. He planted his staff into the soil, removed his sunglasses, and took Mutaito's Notes from his robe—the book he had read countless times. He opened it to the page marked with a slip of paper. The sealing diagram on it had been rubbed so often that it had grown blurry—three hundred years ago, Master Mutaito had used this diagram to seal King Piccolo, at the cost of his own life. Three hundred years later, the next head of the Turtle Hermit School stood before the same forest.

"Master," Master Roshi said softly, "I came too late."

He put the notes back into his robe and did not turn around. It was not that he did not want to. He simply did not dare. If he turned and saw those three figures in orange uniforms, he feared he would no longer have the resolve to enter this forest.

Deep within the forest, King Piccolo opened his eyes. His scarlet pupils resembled two ghostly flames in the darkness. He sat at the roots of a withered ancient tree, and the cracks in the seal covering his body were peeling away at a visible rate.

"Mutaito." His voice sounded like stones grinding against one another. "Three hundred years ago, your master died by my hand. Three hundred years later, you have come to die as well."

"Three hundred years ago, my master sealed you. Three hundred years later, I have come to reinforce that seal." Master Roshi stopped, forming hand seals before his chest as the ki within him began to flow along the paths of the sealing diagram. "Evil Containment Wave."

King Piccolo's pupils suddenly contracted. Evil Containment Wave—he had never forgotten the name of that sealing technique in three hundred years. Mutaito had used this move to imprison him deep beneath the earth. For three hundred years, every minute and every second, he had tasted the humiliation of being unable to move within the cracks of that seal. Now that the seal had loosened, he had only seen daylight again for a few short days, and this human had come for him once more.

"You're insane." King Piccolo rose to his feet as darkness surged around him. "Mutaito died using that technique, and you are weaker than he was—you do not even have half the power needed to seal me!"

"I don't need half. As long as I can seal you, even for just ten years, that will be enough time for my disciples to grow up." Master Roshi brought his hands together, and the sealing diagram unfolded before him, pale golden patterns spreading through the air.

King Piccolo struck. He gave Master Roshi no time to complete the seal. A black ki blast exploded from his palm and shot straight toward Master Roshi's chest. Master Roshi did not dodge. Once the Evil Containment Wave was activated, it could not be interrupted. Interrupting it would mean all his efforts had been wasted. He took the attack head-on. The black ki blast slammed into the turtle shell on his chest. The shell exploded, fragments scattering everywhere as blood seeped from the corner of Master Roshi's mouth.

But he did not loosen his hands. The sealing diagram continued to spread, and golden patterns began wrapping around King Piccolo's body.

"You—" King Piccolo looked down at the patterns coiling around him. For the first time, fear surfaced in his scarlet eyes. "Are you really going to die with me?!"

"Three hundred years ago, when my master died with you, I knelt by the sea for three days and three nights. I hated myself for not boarding that ship with him. I hated myself for being too weak." Master Roshi slowly raised his head. Blood still dripped from the corner of his mouth, but there was not a trace of fear in his eyes—only the calm that had settled over three hundred years. "Three hundred years later, I finally understand—he did not stop me from coming because he thought I was weak. He wanted me to live. So this time, it is my turn. I am not here to die. I am here to leave the chance to live for the next generation."

The sealing diagram suddenly tightened. King Piccolo roared and struggled as dark energy poured from his body like tentacles, fighting against the power of the seal. The two forces collided deep within the forest. Trees were uprooted, and the ground split open with bottomless fissures. But Master Roshi's life force was draining rapidly as well. His face grew increasingly pale, and the hands forming his seals began to tremble violently.

The outermost layer of the sealing diagram began to crack. A tiny fracture spread from its center, and the glowing patterns dimmed in that instant.

"Still not enough." Master Roshi gritted his teeth and squeezed out the last trace of ki from the depths of his body. "Just a little more—!"

At that moment, an orange figure fell from the sky, crashing down between Master Roshi and King Piccolo. The blast of air sent shattered branches and loose stones flying, revealing the back of a young man. Orange uniform, brown tail, arms crossed before him in a guard.

Talos.

Master Roshi froze. "How did you—"

"It's not just me." Talos turned his head and glanced toward the night sky behind him.

Goku dropped straight down from the night sky, his orange uniform snapping in the rushing air. He landed to Talos's right and took his stance, his tail pulled taut, his eyes more serious than Master Roshi had ever seen them. Then came Krillin, who flipped through the air and landed steadily, taking up a position in front of Master Roshi. Then came four faster figures—Tien Shinhan and Chiaotzu descended from above, Pamput followed with his greatsword over his shoulder, and the senior brother from a regional school stepped barefoot onto the mud overturned by the shockwave, each step making the ground tremble faintly.

Master Roshi's bloodstained lips slowly curved upward. "You disobedient brats... why did all of you come...?"

"Because the Turtle Hermit School can be defeated," Talos said, glancing back at him. "But it cannot be frightened into submission. You taught us that."

Goku settled into his stance and stared at King Piccolo without looking back. "Master Mutaito, get some rest first. We'll handle this fight."

King Piccolo broke free from the remnants of the sealing diagram and stood atop the dead tree roots, looking down at these uninvited guests. Dark energy surged around him like a tide, and his scarlet pupils swept across every face.

"A pack of little brats. Even the strongest among you is only—" His gaze stopped on Talos, and his voice cut off.

Because he sensed the true strength of that ki. Not a few hundred. Not a few thousand. It had surpassed ten thousand. The youth in the orange uniform stood before him, his breathing steady, with neither fear nor arrogance in his eyes—only a calm so cold it was almost cruel.

"Who are you?"

"Talos, thirty-sixth-generation disciple of the Turtle Hermit School. A disciple under Master Mutaito, and Zhao Tiexin's student."

"The Turtle Hermit School has no disciple at your level. Your battle power—there is no way a human could reach this level."

"I never said I was human."

King Piccolo's pupils shrank sharply. His gaze moved from Talos's face to the brown tail showing beneath the hem of his clothes, then from Talos's tail to the tail of the smaller youth beside him. Two tails. Two Saiyans. A memory from centuries ago surfaced in his mind—that Saiyan warrior who had passed by Earth, the Saiyan who had fought him to a draw while using only thirty percent of his strength. Before leaving, that Saiyan had said one thing: Saiyans would come to this planet again someday.

And now they had come. Not one, but two.

"Saiyans." For the first time, wariness appeared in King Piccolo's voice. "Why are you on Earth? This planet is not your target—"

"This planet is my home." Talos interrupted him, his voice still calm. "The Turtle Hermit School is my sect. Master Mutaito is my master. The people standing before you are my fellow disciples and comrades. You say the Turtle Hermit School is beneath you. Then try us."

King Piccolo fell silent for a moment, then laughed—a laugh of someone driven into a corner, staking everything on one final gamble. Dark energy gathered rapidly around him, and power far beyond his normal limit erupted from within him. His battle power shot straight up from eight hundred, breaking through one thousand, then twelve hundred, then fifteen hundred.

"Then die together!"

He gathered all his strength into his right fist and punched toward Talos. That blow contained all of King Piccolo's power and rage. The black force corroded the air itself, producing a sizzling hiss.

Talos raised his right hand.

Kaioken. One times.

The moment crimson energy erupted, even the clouds that had hung over Dark Forest all year round were blasted open with a gap. Moonlight poured down through the opening, bathing Talos in silver and red, dyeing both his black hair and orange uniform those colors.

Fist met palm. King Piccolo's strongest strike slammed into Talos's palm, and black and red energy exploded at the point of contact. The shockwave spread outward from the two of them, sending stones and broken timber flying. The weaker martial artists were pushed back again and again by the blast, while Goku and Tien Shinhan had to channel their ki simultaneously to hold their ground.

The dust settled.

Talos stood where he was. His palm was completely unharmed, his five fingers tightly clamped around King Piccolo's fist. King Piccolo looked down at his fully restrained right hand, and the expression on his face shifted from savagery to confusion, then from confusion to fear.

"What kind of monster are you...?"

Talos did not answer. Pale golden light from the Evil Containment Wave appeared in his other palm—but unlike the sealing diagram Master Roshi had released moments ago, this light was gentler and more restrained, causing no backlash to its user.

"Ding—Evil Containment Wave: Injury-Free Version activated for the first time. Effect: Seals the target. The caster enters a one-week weakened state, with no fatal risk. Current target's battle power is far below the host's. Seal success rate: 99.7%."

The sealing diagram unfolded in the air, larger, denser, and more complete than Master Roshi's. This was a perfect seal drawn through the most precise control of ki, supported by battle power vastly exceeding what the seal required. Golden patterns wrapped around King Piccolo layer by layer. With each layer, his dark energy weakened further. The third layer, the fifth, the eighth—when the sealing diagram was complete, King Piccolo's body began shrinking rapidly, reverting from his adult form into an egg-shaped cocoon curled upon the ground. The cocoon pulsed faintly, as though breathing, but it could no longer break free.

"The seal is complete." Talos looked down at the cocoon, then turned and walked toward Master Roshi.

The old man leaned against the roots of a dead tree that had been uprooted by the shockwave. The turtle shell on his chest had shattered, and his plain white training uniform was stained with blood. He looked at Talos—he had not taken off his sunglasses, because one lens had shattered in the battle just now—and used his one remaining eye to look at his disciple.

"You did it." Master Roshi's voice was hoarse and weak. "I wanted to play the hero alone. But in the end, you were still the ones who saved me."

"Not saved." Talos crouched down, meeting Master Roshi's eyes. "Picked you up. You taught us so much, then went off to die alone—that's giving up halfway. Your fight isn't over yet, so I came to take you home. It's not that the disciple is dying in the master's place. It's that the disciple is bringing his master home."

Master Roshi was silent for a long time. Then he placed a hand on Talos's head—the exact same gesture he had made when accepting him as a disciple three months ago, except this time, his hand trembled slightly.

"When your master, Zhao Tiexin, sent you to me, he wrote me a letter. There was only one sentence in it—'That brat's even more stubborn than I am, so please bear with him.'" The corner of Master Roshi's mouth slowly curved upward. "He wasn't wrong."

"Let's go home, Teacher Mutaito." Goku crouched on Master Roshi's other side, his tail swaying gently.

"I'll make you seafood congee when we get back." Krillin stood nearby, his eyes red, yet he stubbornly refused to let his tears fall.

Master Roshi looked at his three disciples—Talos, Goku, and Krillin—and smiled. It was a faint smile, but a genuine one.

"Alright. Let's go home."

Several figures rose into the air from the edge of the Dark Forest at the same time. Orange, azure, and white auras intertwined in the night sky, forming flowing bands of light as they flew toward the South Sea Islands. Talos flew at the front, the pulsing cocoon of seals cradled in his arms. Goku and Krillin guarded Master Roshi on either side. Half of the old man's turtle shell was broken, and his training uniform was in tatters, but his back remained perfectly straight.

The King Piccolo Arc had ended. Next came the countdown to the Saiyan Arc.

Back in the direction of Turtle Hermit House, Old Master Zhao had already packed his bags. He was going back to Turtle Hermit House—when he had left forty years ago, he had still been a young man; now, his hair had turned completely white. But he knew that the light of the Turtle Hermit School had never gone out.