Kryptonians: Man of Steel

Chapter 1621 Dragon
The excruciating pain felt as if it were tearing his soul apart completely.

Accompanied by a heart-wrenching dry heave that could only be squeezed out as faint breaths, and uncontrollable, violent convulsions that felt like they were about to shatter his skeleton, he vomited up a demon egg that was smaller than the previous two and had a dull, dusty luster.

"Wake up, your name is Flute Demon Child."

Piccolo said to the egg.

The sound of the eggshell cracking was so faint as to be almost inaudible, sounding particularly desolate amidst the deathly silence of the mountain rocks.

A figure struggled out from within.

He was much shorter than Danbalin, his figure so thin it seemed he could be blown away by the mountain wind. His skin was a lighter, almost sickly gray-green. He had no horns on his head that symbolized power, and his eyes held a mixture of the bewilderment of a newborn and a hint of cowardice that was incongruous with his identity as a demon warrior.

This is the third child that Piccolo created when he was on the verge of exhaustion of magic and his will was about to crumble—a being with pure combat potential, intellectual support, and magical perception.

These are the "eyes" and "tentacles" he reserved for himself, a backup plan in case of utter ruin, a spark that concerns... the continuation of the flame.

"Father...Father..."

The newborn demon boy's voice was weak and trembling, filled with awe and instinctive obedience stemming from his bloodline, as he knelt heavily on the cold rock in front of Piccolo.

Bick was so exhausted that he barely had the strength to keep his eyelids open, let alone speak.

He merely moved his eyes with difficulty, casting a weak, gesturing glance at the newborn child.

The boy immediately understood, and carefully moved closer, using his still-childish arms to support his father's broken body, which seemed about to shatter and fall apart at any moment.

At the same time, he tried to concentrate, awkwardly mobilizing his meager senses to fulfill his first duty as a guard and scout.

Simbal's massive body moved even closer, like a moving wall of flesh, shielding the extremely weakened Demon King from the howling, bone-chilling winds of the mountains.

Bick closed his eyes tightly, forcibly enduring the terrifying backlash from the complete depletion of his magic power—it felt like millions of hungry ants were frantically gnawing at his bone marrow and nerve endings, bringing endless emptiness and excruciating pain that could tear his soul apart.

Each inhale is like swallowing a razor blade, and each exhale is like the final flicker of a candle flame.

In his remaining consciousness, only a burning thought remained, a desperate hope.

"Dambarin...faster..." This silent roar echoed in the depths of his consciousness, followed by another heart-wrenching cough.

Dark green blood, reeking of decay, kept spilling from the corners of his mouth, dripping onto the cold rocks beneath him, where it was quickly swallowed by the dry, greedy dust, leaving only a few ominous dark marks.

Fortunately, the search for the Dragon Balls in Danbalin went surprisingly smoothly.

Those magical orbs scattered in various places do not seem to be under the protection of powerful guardians.

Luther's previous actions provided a crucial advantage—he had already taken one of the stones from Master Roshi.

This allowed Danbalin to collect all seven Dragon Balls in a very short time without any hindrance.

"Great Demon King! All seven Dragon Balls are here!"

Danbalin knelt down, weary from his journey, his voice loud and reverent, and respectfully offered the seven shimmering jewels with both hands.

In an instant, a bright light, like a final burst of life, flashed from Bick's cloudy eyes.

“Very good… Danbalin… I… I…” He tried to speak, but his voice was hoarse and broken. The price of forcibly giving birth to three children in succession had brought his already severely aged body to the brink of collapse. Every sound he made was accompanied by excruciating pain throughout his body.

Danbalin immediately understood that the Great Demon King was powerless.

"As ordered!"

Without hesitation, he stood up and quickly piled the seven Dragon Balls together on the ground in front of Piccolo.

Taking a deep breath, Danbalin looked up at the suddenly gloomy and oppressive sky, and with all his might roared out that ancient call:

"Come forth, Shenlong—!"

In an instant, the world changed color! Thick, inky clouds appeared out of nowhere, rolling and roaring to block out the sun. Blinding, pale lightning bolts twisted wildly in the depths of the clouds, and deafening thunder tore through the silence of the valley, as if the whole world was trembling at the power of this forbidden summoning.

Danbalin's voice was like a stone thrown into a stagnant pool, stirring up a violent response from heaven and earth.

The rolling, inky clouds instantly swallowed the last ray of sunlight, dragging the entire valley into a suffocating gloom.

The pale lightning no longer twisted like a snake, but transformed into a raging giant axe, cleaving through the thick clouds time and time again. Each flash briefly illuminated Piccolo's pale, withered face and Simbal's tense, wary, massive body.

The deafening thunder was no longer a distant drumbeat, but exploded directly overhead, the violent sound waves crashing against the rocks as if to shake the entire mountaintop down.

At the pinnacle of this symphony of destruction, an indescribable, overwhelming pressure originating from the primordial era suddenly descended!

It wasn't physical weight, but rather it acted directly on the depths of the soul, causing even powerful demon warriors like Danbalin and Simbal to involuntarily feel their knees go weak and feel an urge to prostrate themselves in worship.

The newborn demon boy let out a short gasp, his body trembling violently. If he hadn't been struggling to support Piccolo, he would have collapsed to the ground.

His keen perceptive talent became a huge burden at this moment. Like a mortal looking directly at the sun, the vast and boundless divine power almost completely overwhelmed and tore apart his insignificant consciousness.

He could only instinctively shrink his senses to the extreme, clinging tightly to his father's broken body, like a drowning person grabbing the only piece of driftwood.

At the center of the dark clouds, a huge vortex began to spin wildly, as if connecting to another dimension.

From the depths of the vortex, dazzling golden light erupted like molten gold, instantly dispelling the surrounding darkness.

The light was not warm, but rather carried a cold, majestic, and divine quality that looked down upon all living beings.

Immediately afterwards, an unimaginably enormous creature slowly emerged from the golden vortex.

First, there is a huge head covered with emerald green scales, resembling a divine dragon from Eastern legends, but each scale gleams with a metallic luster, containing terrifying power.

Two majestic dragon horns pierced the clouds, gleaming with a cold light.

The enormous dragon whiskers danced in the raging air currents.

Finally, there were those eyes—huge, scarlet, like two cold, blood-red moons, devoid of any emotion, only pure, all-seeing indifference and scrutiny.

The golden light emanated from its enormous body, illuminating the ant-like creatures below.

(End of this chapter)