Dragon Ball Human

Back in Dr. Gero's laboratory, Yamiru's Golden Veil first awakened their "energy vision"—the very ability that had allowed him to escape. 

From then on, when he focused, those eyes could see through obstacles within a certain range, perceiving the shape and even color of living beings' energy. 

Later, at Fry-pan Mountain, where underworld miasma intertwined with flames from the scattered Furnace of Eight Divisions, Yamiru's golden eyes gained the power to see the invisible turbid energy of the underworld. This energy, drawn by human malevolence, could corrupt mortals into demons. 

Thus, to his Golden Veil, demonic energy and natural underworld miasma looked strikingly similar—at least in hue. 

--- 

'Almost fooled me.' 

Yamiru advanced slowly toward the "withered tree." 

Annin followed, still ensnared by the illusion. To her, Yamiru was walking toward a mist-shrouded, radiant pool in this "paradise"—beside which stood an ancient tree wreathed in immortal aura. 

Yamiru stopped, studying it. "Bold of you. I'm moving so slowly, yet you don't flee. Do you really think I haven't spotted you?" 

The tree remained still, its leaves rustling in a deceivingly serene breeze. 

"An ostrich Demon King?" Yamiru sighed. Inhaling sharply, his golden eyes blazed as he absorbed the surrounding underworld energy. Black scales crawled across his skin. 

"Fine. Have it your way!" 

In an instant, he transformed, his draconic claws slashing toward the demon disguised as wood. This thing's energy wasn't even on par with Samuel's—one strike would shred its shoulder. 

Yet— 

"Yamiru!" 

A slender, deceptively delicate hand intercepted his claw, the collision ringing like clashing steel. 

"Annin!" Yamiru grabbed her wrist. 

"Yamiru, can't you transform anymore?" Annin said urgently—but Yamiru realized she was speaking to the tree behind her. "Stay back! I'll handle this!" 

Her wrist flared with concentrated ki, scalding his grip like white-hot metal. Before he could react, an explosive force erupted— 

*BANG!* 

Annin wrenched free, her follow-up kick tearing through the air with a sonic boom as she chased the "demon." 

"Snap out of it!" Yamiru shouted, dodging. 

But his words only deepened her trance. 

In her eyes, he was the monster, and the tree was a "powerless Yamiru" needing protection. 

Her spinning heel kick missed the retreating foe, but she pivoted mid-air, flight technique accelerating her like a nitro boost. The second kick carried even greater force. 

Yamiru inhaled more miasma, his draconic form growing sharper, deadlier. His amber-gold eyes locked onto Annin's—now clouded with illusion. 

*BOOM!* 

He blocked her kick, the shockwave ripping the earth apart around them. 

---

"What kind of monstrous humans are these?" 

The real Demon King, Dimon, still disguised as the tree, watched through his illusions, heart pounding. 

"Among us five, only my twin Divo could face such power head-on... But brute strength is for fools!" He smirked. "Scream for her all you want, idiot. The more you beg, the deeper she falls!" 

--- 

Yamiru parried Annin's relentless assault, analyzing. 

Fighting at full strength, Annin's power was truly formidable—forcing Yamiru to continuously absorb more underworld energy just to keep up. 

"If the illusion twists 'right' into 'wrong', then what if I…" 

His thoughts raced. In the next instant, as Annin's overwhelming assault pressed him, his gaze shifted. 

He dodged her earth-shattering kick, then clenched a fist, gathering enough energy to wound or even kill her—a genuine, long-absent killing intent! 

Annin's movements faltered, confusion flickering across her face. Who knew what the illusion showed her now? Perhaps the "demon" she'd been fighting suddenly turned benevolent? Yamiru didn't wait. His fist, laden with lethal intent, shot toward her head—while she stood frozen, oblivious. 

"Hah! Perfect fool!" The tree-disguised Demon King Dimon crowed internally. "You're doing my job for me! My illusions have no flaws to exploit!" 

But before his gloating finished— 

BOOM! 

Yamiru's fist veered at the last second, grazing Annin's cheek. The redirected force erupted into a distorted energy beam, blasting toward the tree.

"Damn it!" Dimon rolled aside, barely avoiding the strike. "This human's more cunning than a demon!" 

He looked up—only to see Annin, after being "spared" by Yamiru, now charging again. She slammed her shoulder into Yamiru's arm, then hammered her fists toward the "demon" (Yamiru) attacking the "helpless Yamiru" (Dimon). 

CRACK!

Yamiru took the hits head-on, staggering as blood trickled from his lips. 

Studying Annin's fogged eyes, an idea struck. He deactivated his Golden Veil. 

Instantly, illusions and phantom whispers flooded his senses, nearly drowning him in drowsiness. 

"Idiot! Absolute moron!" Dimon sneered. "Voluntarily surrendering to my illusions? You've got a death wish—" 

The hallucinations overwhelmed Yamiru, but he clung to one truth: illusions couldn't alter physical positions. Lunging forward, he grabbed Annin and rasped, "Meditate. Now." 

He didn't know if modern martial artists practiced meditation, but Annin's skill should suffice. 

Without hesitation, Yamiru released his ki—and immediately felt Annin's energy resonate in response. 

Their auras intertwined, merging into a shared mental space. 

This technique—used by Krillin and Gohan during their space travels—allowed spiritual sparring. Even Master Roshi's telepathy and Piccolo's mental training followed similar principles. 

"Yamiru…" 

In the meditative realm, Annin regained clarity. 

"Three seconds!" Yamiru gripped her arms, his golden eyes burning into hers. "Remember these eyes. Stay awake for just three seconds outside—" 

--- 

Back in reality, Dimon's smugness shattered as a pair of golden eyes pierced through the illusions, searing into his mind. 

"Impossible!" 

He whirled—just in time to see Yamiru's gaze lock onto him over Annin's shoulder. 

*One second… Two seconds…* 

Yamiru's demonic form intensified, his energy peaking at 150,000+ power levels. 

*2.1 seconds*: Yamiru gently pushed Annin aside. 

*2.3 seconds*: He became a white arc, flashing past her. 

*2.7 seconds*: Dimon's eyes bulged as Annin toppled backward, golden light reflecting in her pupils. 

"No—!" 

Dimon's scream died as Yamiru's fist pierced his chest. 

*THUD.* 

Annin collapsed behind them. 

Yamiru wrenched his arm free, purple demon blood splattering the ground. 

The illusions dissolved like mist. 

"You... you..." Demon King Dimon glared with unyielding hatred, his mouth filling with blood, gurgling incoherently. 

Yamiru ignored his dying throes, his golden eyes fixed on the demon's fading life force. "Where does a demon's energy go after death?" he mused aloud. 

As Dimon's body cooled, the demonic energy within him—now unbound—began to evaporate, dispersing like fog returning to the ambient underworld miasma. 

Yamiru acted swiftly. 

He exhaled a portion of the demonic energy he'd absorbed earlier, then inhaled deeply, drawing in the "fresh" miasma seeping from Dimon's corpse. 

With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the lifeless tree aside and closed his eyes. 

When they reopened, his amber-gold irises gleamed darker, more profound. A slow exhale of steam escaped his lips as his draconic scales receded—but this time, even after fully reverting to human form, faint wisps of dark-gold energy continued to seep from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth... 

"Finally... the 'residual impurities' the Dragon God detected are purged." 

Yamiru exhaled in relief. 

By studying Dimon's mastery of demonic illusions, he'd gained deeper insight into the nature of miasma—enough to identify and expel the microscopic remnants lurking unseen within him. 

"Leaving even a trace unclean... would've been unacceptable."