Swa watched the back of the young Asura named Diru as he stepped out of Goku's private quarters. The youth's gait was stiff—not from the exhaustion of standing for hours, but because he had just been forced to drain his entire memory. Swa had shown no mercy; he had interrogated every inch of Diru's report, forcing the captain to recall whether the scent he smelled was the brimstone of Demon skin or the sulfuric residue of a fire spell.
Even so, Swa felt no guilt. The information Diru brought made his heart race. Lines of anxiety were etched clearly across his face, clashing with the logic that struggled to reject the bitter reality before his eyes.
"This is impossible. It's too soon. Didn't Ez say we still had a year? It hasn't even been six months!" Swa clenched his fist so hard his knuckles turned white.
