Dragon Ball Human

Yamiru's understanding of power, ki, and demonic energy had deepened. 

Now, entering his demonic transformation, he could reach his peak combat strength—around 150,000 to 160,000 power level—faster than ever before. 

Perhaps even higher. 

Back when he inhabited Yamoshi's body, he'd genuinely trained to 700,000-800,000. The reason he could only manifest 150,000 afterward was purely due to the limitations of his Earthling physique. 

But now, after fully absorbing the underworld's miasma again, his power had progressed further. 

Annin, now fully awke, watched silently as Yamiru tested his strength. "You're stronger than before," she observed. 

"Compared to Satan?" Yamiru asked, the draconic scales receding as he exhaled a plume of dark energy. 

He noticed something else: the strain of entering and exiting his demonic form had lessened significantly. Previously, while the surge of power was exhilarating, reverting to his human body left him heavily burdened. Now, the transition was smoother. 

Annin shook her head. "I don't know how strong Satan truly is... so I can't compare." 

Yamiru nodded, gripping the dragon-shaped mark on his wrist. Though unsure if it held sentience, he treated it as though it did. 

"This time, I won't rely on your help." 

He patted the mark—then his eyes shifted. 

A crimson hue tinged his golden irises as hellish miasma surged toward him. Scales crawled across his skin. 

Power level: 300... 400... 

His nails sharpened, fingers elongating... 

1,000... 2,000... 

The torrent of demonic energy carried with it a flood of malevolent thoughts, battering his mind. 

This time, the dragon mark obeyed his request—no barrier against corruption. Yamiru resisted purely through willpower. 

To attract demonic energy, one needed to generate malice as a catalyst—similar to how Super Saiyan transformation required rage. But just as Goku eventually shed his reliance on anger, Yamiru's mastery reduced the "spark" of darkness needed to ignite his transformation. 

Yet even a diminished spark was still a spark. 

To maintain clarity amidst that tsunami of corruption? 

It was like an undercover agent infiltrating a criminal syndicate—participating in their atrocities while clinging to his true identity. Near impossible. 

Before, without the dragon mark's protection, Yamiru would lose control around 1,000 power levels. 

Now? 

His power climbed steadily... 

Finally plateauing at 20,000. 

The onslaught of demonic whispers crashed against his mind, but Yamiru stood firm—an unyielding reef amidst the storm. 

"Even without the Dragon God's aid, I can now reach 20,000," he mused, smiling wryly. "From 200 to 20,000—a hundredfold increase. Stronger than a Super Saiyan's boost, even." 

His thoughts drifted. "Speaking of which... how is Yamoshi faring?" 

--- 

With Dimon slain, Yamiru and Annin resumed their journey—both as demon slayers and as cultivators. 

To better face the looming threat of Great Demon King Satan, they allocated seven months of the year between kills for training, three for travel, and two for the actual assassination. 

Annin's foundation lay in the Furnace's reincarnation cycles—a trump card she wouldn't use until the end. But with Yamiru as a sparring partner, she had no reason to hold back. 

In his demonic form, his hundredfold power leap made him the ultimate opponent—one unmatched on Earth. Their martial prowess was near-equal, though Annin privately believed Yamiru edged her out, often marveling at the master he spoke of. 

Yamiru, in turn, shared freely. 

The Self-Weight Technique was an excellent (if masochistic) training method. 

In theory, Yamiru could use demonic transformation for near-instant recovery—like a Senzu Bean. But Earthlings lacked the Saiyans' "near-death power boost" cheat. He'd tested it: the technique caused more harm than good, leaving lingering injuries that outweighed any gains. 

Surprisingly, Annin thrived under the Self-Weight Technique. 

Not because she had Saiyan DNA—

The Self-Weight Technique's pressure, for Annin, was like Goku's weighted clothing—far from self-torture. 

"What exactly did Sherie modify in her?" Yamiru wondered. "She didn't alter her Earthling bloodline, yet granted her talent and power beyond normal limits. The key must be... the Furnace she claims is 'bound' to her." 

Annin lacked demonic transformation. After exhausting herself with the technique, she'd enter the Furnace, recovering at an impossible rate. 

Yamiru gazed up at the enlarged cauldron, his golden eyes faintly discerning the meditating warrior within. 

'To her, is this thing a blessing... or a curse?' 

--- 

Ten months passed swiftly after Abaddon's defeat. 

Yamiru and Annin trekked toward the next Demon King's territory, now crossing its borders. 

Inside the Furnace, Annin had begun training directly within it. The artifact's healing properties intertwined with the Self-Weight Technique's brutality—a paradox only viable because conventional methods had long since plateaued for her. 

Without tapping into her reincarnation-accumulated power, her ten-month grind had surpassed Yamiru's base. 

- Yamiru: Demon-enhanced power now reached 300,000–400,000. 

- Annin: Pushed the Self-Weight Technique to 500x gravity, achieving 500,000 power levels. Inside the Furnace, she'd even hit 600x. 

"Time to deal with the next Demon King," Yamiru transmitted mentally through the cauldron. 

A faint "Mm" echoed back. 

Another kill would buy them another year to train. 

Nodding, Yamiru leaned against one of the Furnace's legs. Sherie had been scarce these months—only appearing once when Annin overexerted herself, nearly beyond even the Furnace's salvation. 

His thoughts drifted to the Saiyan woman light-years away. 

'How is Yamoshi faring?' 

The Self-Weight Technique, reverse-engineered from flight, wasn't advanced martial arts. With her talent, Yamoshi should've mastered it after a month of first-hand observation. 

At 100x gravity: 

- Goku capped at 90,000. 

- Bardock exceeded 100,000. 

- Yamoshi? She'd hit 700,000–800,000. 

'What's her current level?' 

--- 

When Yamiru next opened his eyes, he realized he hadn't simply dozed off—his consciousness had shifted again. 

Back to Planet Sadala. 

"Right as we're about to face a Demon King?" 

He trusted Annin could handle any non-Satan demon alone. Unless, of course, this one was another hard counter. 

Then came the pain. 

He—no, Yamoshi—lay crumpled on the ground, every cell screaming. Limbs grew cold. Her consciousness flickered like a dying candle. Without Yamiru's sudden presence, that fragile flame would've guttered out. 

The truth struck him. 

'Sherie brought me here... to save her.' 

"Damn it... merging with this body means I'm being dragged into its dying state too..." 

Yamiru felt consciousness slipping as the life force ebbed away. He bit his tongue hard, the sharp pain jolting him awake. 

A few kilometers away, a righteous Saiyan energy signature lingered—likely Yamoshi's comrades searching for her. If he could just hold on until they arrived... 

"Demonic transformation could heal these wounds..." 

But Earth's demonic miasma existed only because of the underworld rift at Mount Five Elements. 

Planet Sadala had no such energy. 

Trapped in this desperate, dying state, Yamiru's fading mind inexplicably sparked with excitement. 

A familiar madness. 

It was like fleeing Dr. Gero's lab, collapsing from illness on death's doorstep. 

Like starving himself in defiance when Tao Pai Pai and the Crane Hermit captured him, refusing even a crumb until his body nearly shut down. 

Like scaling Korin Tower, teetering on the edge of oblivion with every step—each memory vivid as yesterday. 

In the pool of blood, "Yamoshi's" barely open, unfocused black eyes flickered with golden light. 

A shimmering dragon coiled within her pupils, as if straining to leap across the stars and deliver a lifeline. 

As his thoughts froze over, Yamiru faintly heard voices calling Yamoshi's name in urgent concern.