Dragon Ball Human

"That was... efficient." 

Annin descended from the sky, landing beside Yamiru at the center of the crater. By now, he had fully shed his demonic draconic form, reverting to his human appearance. 

His energy, which had previously radiated an intensity so sharp it prickled Annin's senses, receded like a tidal wave—diminishing to a level only slightly above that of an ordinary Earthling martial artist. 

"You did say I was his natural counter," Yamiru chuckled. 

He took a measured breath, and the faint glow of his ki faded further, withdrawing until he seemed no different from an unassuming young farmer. 

Yamiru flexed his wrist, where the golden dragon mark coiled. During his final strike against Abaddon, the desperate Demon King had lashed out with what should have been a lethal counterattack. But against the Dragon God's protection, even the most insidious corruption was as harmless as a breeze. 

'Without the Dragon God's aid, no amount of clever ideas would've brought me this far,' Yamiru reflected. Though he now faced a new bottleneck—150,000 seemed to be his current limit for demonic energy absorption—he remained deeply grateful for the deity's repeated assistance. 

Simple training. A simple life. Simple gratitude. 

Compared to years ago, Yamiru's mindset had grown clearer, more refined—and even his power seemed to move with greater ease and fluidity. 

Annin took a step back, studying him with a frown. "Your energy feels... different." 

Yamiru grinned. "For the better, I hope?" 

She nodded. 

His smile widened. 

"With this, we've bought ourselves another year," he said. According to Sherie's rules, after slaying a Demon King, they had one year to defeat another before the vacant seat among the six was filled. 

Half a year had passed since Samuel's death. Now, Abaddon had joined him in oblivion. 

"Do you need the full year?" Annin asked. "If you can maintain the power you just wielded, the remaining Demon Kings—aside from Satan—should pose no threat." 

Yamiru met her gaze. "Your true strength isn't inferior to what I just demonstrated, is it?" 

She neither confirmed nor denied it. "The Furnace holds power I've accumulated over time. But that's a last resort." 

"So you'll only tap into it when sealing the underworld rift... or facing Satan in a final stand," Yamiru deduced. Annin remained silent. 

"But at some point, you stopped believing that moment would ever come," he said quietly. 

Annin's eyes flickered with unreadable emotion before she turned away, gazing at the now-clear sky. "I told you—you can look down on me, but don't you dare pity me." 

"And I told you—I'll pity you if I want to," Yamiru teased. "My school of training never taught me to suppress my feelings." 

"What school is that?" Annin glanced back. "Now that I think about it, I know nothing about you." 

"The 'Follow Your Heart' school," Yamiru declared after a moment's thought. 

Annin raised an eyebrow. 

He spread his arms with a laugh. "Work hard, Study well and eat and sleep plenty! Throw punches for justice! Never betray your heart, never betray your art! Walk your path with no regrets!" 

A hint of envy colored Annin's voice. "Your master must have been an extraordinary martial artist." 

"Not compared to yours," Yamiru said. 

She shook her head. "You know what I mean." 

"Even the old men themselves would say they're no match for Sherie," Yamiru chuckled. "Because it's true." 

Annin held her ground. Yamiru didn't press further, his gaze sweeping the horizon. Even now, he couldn't sense the energy of those martial artists who had parted ways with them a month ago after the insect demon ambush. 

For Annin, who had lived through countless cycles, the parting of companions—familiar or unfamiliar faces vanishing without farewell—was an experience far too numerous to count. Yamiru found no trace of sorrow on her face; in the end, he asked nothing. 

"Let's find a place to rest first." Yamiru lifted into the air, glancing back. "Come to think of it, I know just as little about you! If you're willing, I'd like to hear your story—the very beginning of it." 

"The very beginning?" Annin murmured. "Even I can't remember clearly..." When she looked up, Yamiru had already flown ahead. She followed, quietly marveling at how his martial prowess had ascended yet again—his energy now elusive, almost... reminiscent of her master's presence. 

They didn't fly far before landing in a region where the demonic miasma was thinner, the landscape slightly less ravaged. 

Though both were warriors capable of leveling mountains, they remained flesh and blood, still needing food, water, and rest. Even Yamiru's demonic transformations, fueled by ambient demonic energy, drained his human body's stamina to initiate and sustain. 

Nightfall approached. 

With casual efficiency, they snapped aged trees into compact bundles, ignited them with a flick of ki, and built a long-lasting bonfire. 

Food was trickier. In this era, beasts and animals had diverged: some mutated into monstrous hybrids with humans, others degenerated into low-tier demonic creatures, and the remainder were tainted by demonic energy—edible only after prolonged curing. 

But Yamiru had a simpler method. He siphoned the demonic energy from their hunt directly, seared the meat with ki, then roasted it over the flames. The skill, honed since childhood, yielded surprisingly palatable results. 

"I just absorbed demonic energy from the beast without thinking..." Yamiru paused mid-bite, struck by a realization. "But if I extracted not demonic energy, but the life force itself—wouldn't that be the Genki Dama?" 

His gaze drifted eastward, toward that unfathomable presence that had loomed since his arrival in this era. 

Truth be told, even with his newfound mastery of 150,000+ power levels, Yamiru harbored no confidence against Great Demon King Satan. To this moment, he couldn't even gauge the full depth of that entity's strength. 

That energy pulsed in the east—never concealed, never shifting. Closing his eyes, one might doubt it was a living being at all, and not some bottomless abyss, a vast black ocean swallowing all in its reach. Before such power, any mortal was but a fragile leaf adrift on raging tides. 

'If I could master the Genki Dama now...' 

But as he chewed, Yamiru sensed the technique wasn't so straightforward. The Spirit Bomb, King Kai's trump card taught to Goku, held nuances his current understanding couldn't unravel. 

"Are you observing Satan?" Annin's voice cut through the crackling fire. 

Yamiru met her eyes across the flames. 

"Be careful," she said softly. "He's surely watching you too."