episode 1: Awakening of the Green Warrior! A soul reborn as piccolo

The wind howled across the barren cliffs, carrying dust and the faint scent of scorched rock. Craters scarred the ground like open wounds. A lone figure lay motionless on the plateau, face pressed into the cracked earth. His fingers twitched.

With a sharp inhale, his eyes snapped open—green pupils flashing. He sat up, heart pounding against a chest that felt impossibly strong, impossibly alien. His hands were large, clawed, green. The muscles under his skin moved like coiled steel cables.

He staggered to his feet, cape brushing against his boots. His reflection shimmered in a nearby puddle: sharp fangs, antennae curling in the wind, eyes like a predator.

“What… What the hell?” he muttered, voice deeper than he remembered. He reached for his face and felt smooth, warm skin. “I’m… Piccolo?”

The memories of another life were still there—his old apartment, the smell of coffee, the screech of a truck. Then a flash of light. Then this body. His stomach dropped. Somehow, some way, he’d been thrown into a world he’d only seen on TV.

A tremor of energy pulsed in his palms. He stared down as a faint green glow flickered, swirling like liquid fire. “Ki…” he whispered. It buzzed against his skin, alive, heavy with power.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus. Power roared in his chest like a storm. He let it leak out. The ground beneath him cracked, stones lifting into the air. Wind blasted outward in a violent burst. Far off, the side of a mountain cracked and slumped into rubble.

The shock of it left him trembling. “This power… it’s real. I’m Piccolo.”

He crouched and leapt. The ground shattered under his feet, a boom echoing across the plateau. He shot into the air, cape snapping like a banner. The world blurred below him as he rose higher and higher until clouds swirled around him. He could feel the pressure of the atmosphere, the sting of the wind.

For a moment he laughed, a wild, exhilarated sound. He was flying.

The laughter cut short. Ahead, the horizon stretched empty, but he felt something. A presence. Ki signatures flickering like tiny sparks across the planet. They were far away, but his senses reached them anyway—strong ones, familiar ones. One especially bright, pure, and warm. Goku.

He knew the story. He knew what was coming. Raditz. The Saiyans. The fights that would decide Earth’s fate. This time, though, he wasn’t just watching. He was in it.

He clenched his fists. “If I’m Piccolo, I can change everything. I won’t just follow the script.”

He descended back to the plateau, landing in a crouch. Dust billowed. He dropped his weighted cape and turban. They hit the ground with a heavy thud. His body felt even lighter, faster.

He began to move, fists slicing the air. Jab, hook, spin, kick. Energy snapped around his limbs like sparks. The movements came instinctively, memories of countless battles imprinted into his muscles. The more he moved, the clearer it became—Piccolo’s fighting style wasn’t just a skill, it was a language. And now it was his language.

Sweat beaded on his brow, but his breathing stayed calm. He thrust his hands forward and focused. A glowing orb of yellow-green ki formed between his palms, spinning faster and faster until the air hissed with heat.

“Masenko—” He stopped, blinking. “No, that’s not mine…” He shifted, recalling the technique he’d seen a hundred times on a screen. “Special Beam Cannon.”

His fingers curled, two raised, the others clenched. He focused all his power into a single point. Energy screeched, twisting into a spiral. He fired.

The beam ripped across the plateau, carving a trench through the stone. The recoil threw him back a step, but he stayed upright, grinning at the destruction.

“This is insane…” His grin faded. “But if Raditz is coming, I need more. Way more.”

He sat cross-legged on the cracked ground, closing his eyes. The air around him shimmered with heat from the ki. He forced his breathing slow, sinking into a trance. Piccolo’s memories flickered like fragments of dreams—King Piccolo’s rage, Kami’s calm voice, the Namekian sky. For a moment, he wasn’t just himself or Piccolo. He was both.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun had dipped lower. The sky burned red and purple. He could feel the Earth’s heartbeat, the flow of ki across the planet. He could feel the threat on the edge of space—dark, sharp, getting closer.

A rock shifted behind him. Instantly, he twisted, arm out, ki flickering at his fingertips. A small creature—a lizard—darted away. He exhaled, lowering his hand. Even tiny noises felt amplified now.

He stood, brushing dust from his cape. “If I’m going to change this world, I have to start now.”

He turned his gaze toward the distant mountains. Somewhere beyond them was Goku. Somewhere beyond him was the first real fight. He flexed his claws, energy crackling around them like lightning.

“This time,” he said, voice steady, “I’m not going to lose.”

The wind picked up again, carrying his words into the dying light. His silhouette, tall and green against the horizon, looked less like a stranger and more like the warrior he’d become.

Far above, a streak of light cut across the stars, moving fast toward Earth.

The green warrior stood unmoving, eyes narrowed, as if he already knew what was coming.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***