DB Multiverse

Bent forwards, the big Namekian's face was as expressionless as ever. He was standing perfectly still, only his long cloak is swaying in the soft wind that was playing with the silky cloth at the edge of the circular platform. He didn't show any emotion even though thousands thoughts were bustling around in his mind, which didn't help calm his frustration.

What good would there be to display his rage, his anger, his inability to the others? He could hear the distant vibrations of the fatal attacks made by two bionic degenerates, who had decided to annihilate a world he had made his own.

It was best to keep this precious energy for later, for the right moment. For this moment would certainly come. He was sure of it... unless he was just trying to convince himself.

He looked behind him with his mind and 'saw' Yamcha, sat on the stairs of the palace, looking gloomy. He could feel the nervous impatience in the pacing up and down of Krilin and Mr. Popo's quiet and placid presence who is waiting with a surprising serenity.

Anyway, there were no use in being impatient. Time was not right. There were a quarter of a dial for the hand to finish its second turn.

He cast his mind further, in vain, he knew it. It was impossible to perceive anything from that other dimension that the Time Chamber was. Even though he would like to put an end to the dull anxiety that had added to his already tortured mind since the previous day. Since the moment he had seen the heavy door close itself on the petite figure of his former student, the one he considered as his godchild, almost his adopted son.

He would have loved going with them, but this stubborn and arrogant Saiyan had refused point blank!

That Prince, whose manners were unbearable, whose insolent arrogance was only equalled by the incredible selfishness that he flaunted without any complex.

But they needed him, that was the fact of the matter!

His pupils went on the right, and still he didn't move.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the tall figure, even though it was bent, his hands clenched on the gnarled sacred staff. It was clear he was as anxious as he himself was.

Strange reflection of an older soul mate. Kamisama the wise was powerlessly witnessing to the screams of terrors that were going with the silent flight of the numerous souls unjustly torn from their fate.

Same as his own, his face didn't show any emotion... as him, he was waiting. They were waiting for the miracle of the transmutation of the former destructor of world into the saviour of humanity.

Oh, it hadn't been easy to find him... lost in the middle of a barren and frozen massif on the other side of the planet. It had not been easy to rouse him out from his stubborn and hostile silence. And finally, it had not been easy to convince this monstrously egocentric and proud man.

It had been him, Piccolo, who had had the idea first. But he had been obliged to come to the palace and ask the help of the ageing god, who was now suffering in silence at his side. It had been impossible to spot the quick-tempered fighter, who had been extremely careful in concealing his huge ki.

Once they had found him, it had been impossible to get his attention, to get a word from the sombre rock that was brooding on at the top of a mountain to which his fury had given the aspect of an extinct volcano. The hard and cold stone had been utterly crushed, shattered, blackened by the several fits of anger of the outraged fighter, all the ice and snow of these frozen heights within an incredibly wide area.

And it had been Kamisama, once again, who had found the right words to rouse that spoiled child from his sulkiness. What words? What promises? What arguments had he found to succeed in doing what Piccolo himself had clashed against a silent and hostile wall?

Worse, it had been with dread that he had seen the old man go near that concentrate of anger, whose mood swings could be destructive. And he had given a start when both of them had disappeared in an unexpected crackling.

Where had the old Namekian brought them? Neither of them had spoken about it. But the former demon had a hunch about it, he was well aware of god's subtle cleverness and knew everything about his ability to travail to the door of the other world.

When they came back, he had to fight another monster, probably even more tiresome. The deafening scream of an hysteric and possessive mother. He had thought he'd have his eyes ripped off when he had told her he had to take her son. Good thing for him, that monster had the normal energy of a Earth woman and she didn't know how to fly, so she was unable to follow them with her strident yells.

He was neither insensitive, nor stupid. He understood what she could feel with seeing her only son, the only relic of her deceased lover she had left, leaving to fight a battle which outcome was uncertain.

But he had no other choice, they had no other choice! The fate if this planet now depended on this child hardly out of childhood and on this strange Prince whose reactions were unpredictable.