DING! Host life functions in grave danger. System activation conditions satisfied.
Wish-Avatar System now online.
Purpose: assist host in surviving and growing stronger amid all-peril worlds.
Core function: host may draw "Avatar Cards" of champions from countless realms. While possessed, the host temporarily wields the avatar's full power set.
Special clause: during possession the system will generate a "Wish List," echoing the avatar's lingering regrets. Complete items on the list to retain part—or every last drop—of that avatar's strength forever.
New-user perk: first draw free.
Drawing…
Congratulations! Avatar Card obtained—Piccolo Daimaō (elder form).
Origin: Dragon Ball.
Possession duration: three months.
Use card now?
The metallic voice exploded in Ra Tenji's skull like rolling thunder.
System? A real system—my cheat finally arrived!
His heart hammered. A Wish-Avatar System that loaned the might of legends, and let him keep it if he solved their regrets?
"Wait… Piccolo Daimaō? Elder Piccolo Daimaō?"
A sharp breath left him. Even aged, the demon who almost ruled Earth and forced Son Gokū to the brink still dwarfed an entire era. Compared with these East Blue bounty scroungers, his power was overkill.
"Old fossil, cat got your tongue?"
Mōdai's cruel grin widened. He leveled his short blade at Tenji. "If you refuse to walk, I'll simply take your pricey head now. Die!"
He lunged. Steel flashed like lightning, cleaving straight for Tenji's brow. Most eyes could only track a grey blur.
"Sir!"
Kanesu barely raised his sword before Mōdai whipped past, the edge of death descending.
Tenji's pupils shrank. Pure survival instinct left no room for thought. Yes—use it—possession now!
A low humming ripped through reality, as though the chaos before creation tore open. An ancient, malevolent force erupted, flooding Tenji's brittle body.
The withered frame swelled with viridian life and catastrophic might. Muscles hardened, cloudy eyes ignited with eerie green fire.
The world slowed to a crawl.
Mōdai's victorious sneer and lightning blade crawled forward like a snail. Every grain of salt on the breeze, every trace of damp earth, registered with impossible clarity.
Power—absolute, commanding—rose from Tenji's soul.
So this is elder Piccolo Daimaō.
Raging ki coursed like rivers. Flight, Makōhō, Explosive Demon Wave—techniques once trapped in manga panels now waited at his fingertips.
The blade closed to half a meter; its wind already sliced a stray white hair. Mōdai saw only a helpless old relic about to fall. His crew tasted their payday. Kanesu, frozen by speed alone, felt despair swallow him.
Tenji, hunched and seemingly defeated, raised his head.
A sly, almost wicked smile curved across the wrinkled face. Green light pulsed in those ancient eyes—an apex predator awakening.
He did not dodge. He merely lifted a gaunt, liver-spotted hand and spread two fingers.
Mōdai blinked. The geezer meant to catch the strike with bare fingers? Absurd.
Steel whistled down.
CLANG!
Night cracked with shrieking metal.
Time stopped.
Mōdai's grin froze. Terror replaced it.
His full-force slash had been halted—pinched between Tenji's forefinger and middle finger as lightly as two chopsticks. No sparks flew, no quiver of steel, only the oppressive certainty of overwhelming strength.
"Im… impossible…"
The word died in his throat.
Around him, every hunter's greedy smile turned to mute horror, mouths gaping like throttled ducks.
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