At last, the dust settled, and the first thing to emerge was that head of silver-white short hair, each strand standing upright with the cold gleam of metal.
Then Baby's complete form stepped out—tall and powerfully built, clad from head to toe in a black skintight battle suit. His muscles bulged in exaggerated lines, like explosives ready to detonate at any moment.
The black vertical markings on his face writhed like living things, slowly crawling across his neck and bare arms, making him look less like a human and more like some scalp-numbing monster.
A cruel, arrogant smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, brimming with malice.
Those dark-red eyes were like two drops of congealed blood. With a casual sweep of his gaze, even the air became heavy and foul.
Resentment and evil energy spread from him, so dense they seemed almost tangible.
In the distance, Buu instinctively tensed up, as if ready to fight at any second.
But an even more despairing sight was yet to come.
"Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!" The sound of air tearing rang out in succession as more than a dozen figures descended behind Baby, stiff as puppets being tugged by invisible strings.
They silently arranged themselves in a semicircle, their movements mechanical and utterly lifeless.
Gohan, Goten, Piccolo, Tien Shinhan, Chiaotzu, Yamcha... Those companions and family members who had once fought side by side to protect Earth had all become hollow shells, their eyes unfocused and their faces blank.
Each of them bore black vertical markings like Baby's on their forehead or cheek, only paler in color, like brands of humiliation.
Their bodies leaned slightly forward, their arms hanging at their sides in unnatural poses. They looked like hunting dogs ready to pounce at any moment, or funerary figurines placed in a tomb.