Dragon Ball Human

Red Ribbon Army Headquarters.

Within the towering, multi-story cylindrical structure, several army officers gathered in one of the upper floors, engaging in idle chatter.

"I heard something interesting… Apparently, someone who joined the army not long ago managed to cozy up to Dr. Gero just a couple of days ago?"

One officer casually mentioned the latest gossip circulating within the organization.

"Yeah, I've heard about it."

"Some low-ranking officer from a branch base—Bruce or Lu? Can't quite recall. Anyway, he's supposed to be an incredible fighter and, get this, has psychic abilities! They say he's a sure bet for rising to the top ranks of the army."

"Psychic abilities?"

The officers exchanged surprised glances.

Though the Red Ribbon Army was known as Earth's largest gathering of elite misfits and scoundrels, psychic powers were exceedingly rare among its ranks. The same could be said for legitimate martial artists and top-tier fighters.

This scarcity, it was said, stemmed from the peculiar preferences of their leader.

The diminutive commander was notoriously averse to recruiting subordinates with exceptional physical prowess—he found them annoying. Instead, he preferred nurturing intellectually gifted and obedient scientists. His original aim had been to resolve his own congenital disabilities. Over time, however, he realized that the androids developed by his team of scientists far outperformed any so-called martial arts masters or fighters.

After personally witnessing his chief scientist, Dr. Gero, demonstrate over a hundred different methods to silently and efficiently kill a bull-sized man, the commander's disdain for muscle-bound oafs only grew. No matter how strong someone was, could they really outmatch the commander's bullets, cannons, or robots?

"Hehehe…" The diminutive commander reclined in his oversized chair, chuckling to himself. Noticing the odd look from the secretary standing nearby, he quickly straightened up, coughed twice, and kicked the control panel in front of him with his short legs. His chair spun around, revealing Dr. Gero standing behind him—a man who still bore the appearance of a middle-aged, sinister scientist.

"Doctor," the commander said, adjusting the eyepatch over his left eye. His tone was oddly refined and congenial. "How far along is the android series now?"

"The latest creation, Android 7, has shown severe flaws in testing and had to be scrapped," Gero responded calmly. "However, before decommissioning, I assigned it one last special task."

"Oh? And what sort of task might that be?"

"A report from a branch officer mentioned discovering a child with unique psychic abilities," Gero said in his usual calm and detached manner, maintaining his aura as the Red Ribbon Army's chief scientist. "Apparently, this child's ability is capable of countering other psychic powers. I deemed it worth investigating and dispatched Android 7 to retrieve the target mentioned in the report."

The diminutive commander nodded. "Hmm, quite fascinating…" though he didn't fully grasp the implications. "Well, the research is in your capable hands, Doctor. Hahaha!" He waved dismissively, signaling Gero to leave. The commander leaned back in his oversized chair, his stubby legs stretched forward. To an outsider, he might have resembled a lump of flesh wedged in the crevice of the seat. With a wistful sigh, he muttered, "If only there were something in this world that could grant one's every wish… With that, my ambitions…"

A glimmer of determination flashed in his lone eye. Standing nearby, his tall, imposing black-clad lieutenant was struck by his leader's words. The fiery ambition reflected in the commander's gaze ignited an unshakable resolve within him.

"My Commander," the lieutenant thought, "your dream of world conquest—no matter what, I will help you achieve it!" He made a mental note: "From now on, I'll assign dedicated personnel to scour the world for myths and legends. If psychic abilities and magic exist, then perhaps there truly is something out there that can make the Commander's wishes come true."

"Sigh, I wish I could grow taller…" Every time the commander felt a moment of relaxation, his peripheral vision would inevitably catch a glimpse of his lieutenant's towering figure. It was an ever-present reminder of his own shortcomings, fueling his relentless determination to expand the Red Ribbon Army until the day his dream came true.

Outside the Red Ribbon Army's headquarters, Blue, who had recently arrived but was already on his way out, sneered coldly. "Yamiru, it's only a matter of time before I get my hands on you!" Looking back at the towering structure, he silently vowed, "I will climb to the top of this organization!"

---

Someone was following him.

Yamiru's unease grew with each passing moment.

Sometimes, as he paused to rest in an open area, a fleeting shadow would catch his eye when he glanced back.

Other times, in crowded marketplaces, he'd feel a strange familiarity with certain faces in the throng. A particular tall figure seemed especially recognizable. Though he was sure he had never interacted with the man, his subconscious suggested he had seen that face multiple times before. However, Yamiru was certain it wasn't Delat—the only tall individual he had ever spent time with.

After leaving the small town six days ago, Yamiru had continued his journey, alternating between traveling by day and night, moving at his own pace.

During this time, his biological clock gradually shifted. He no longer felt drowsy at precisely 11:50 PM nor woke with a start at 4:50 AM. His sleep schedule had become more flexible, yet he maintained about four to five hours of rest daily, which seemed sufficient. Yamiru felt like he was transforming into something akin to Zoro from One Piece—a beast whose physical endurance far exceeded that of ordinary humans. He even entertained the thought that, should he be beaten within an inch of his life, a good night's sleep would be enough to recover fully.

However, the realization that someone might be tailing him had dispelled his relaxed state.

He remained cautious, keeping his behavior unchanged to avoid alerting the stalker, all while considering how best to expose whoever was shadowing him.

At this moment, he was walking along a rural dirt path.

Unfolding his map, he calculated that the next town on his planned route was still about 90 kilometers away. First, he needed to finish the remaining 11 kilometers of this countryside trail. Then, he'd have to cross a swamp, which would add another five or six kilometers even on the shortest route. Afterward, he'd face one of Dragon Ball Earth's trademark barren rocky wastelands, stretching at least 40 to 50 kilometers wide. Beyond that lay the outskirts of the target town, where traces of human activity—scattered villages, ranches, farms, and grasslands—would start to appear.

As he neared the swamp, Yamiru stopped to rest.

It was roughly 4 PM, and the fiery hues of sunset burned across the horizon.

Sitting cross-legged on a rock by the dirt path, Yamiru spread out his map and flicked his pen. Most of his time was spent refining the next leg of his journey. While the mysterious old man hadn't provided precise coordinates for Mount Paozu, he had at least marked a general area, giving Yamiru enough information to plan his route.

The area was deserted, save for the distant and intermittent howls of what sounded like wolves.

Tapping his pen against the swamp marked on the map, Yamiru decided: "I'll deal with the stalker there." He smiled slightly, putting away his map, pen, and water bottle. Checking on the half of a Senzu Bean he carried, he took it from his bag and tucked it securely into an inner pocket of his clothing.

Then, using his thick backpack as a pillow, he lay down by the roadside for a brief rest. He intended to enter the swamp after nightfall. No matter what tools the stalker had at their disposal, they wouldn't match his sharp eyes for nighttime hunting.

A few kilometers away, a tall, shadowy figure lowered their binoculars and bit into a piece of compressed rations.