Vitelli's heart sank.
Mr. Popo, acting on the Guardian's orders, brought the message straight through Bulma: King Piccolo had broken his seal. Goku was already fighting him.
And the Guardian wanted Vitelli to do two things:
Kill the old Piccolo.Accept the position of Earth's Guardian.
The news hit Vitelli like a boulder dropped into still water—shockwaves spreading instantly through his mind.
He trusted Goku. He truly did. In terms of raw potential and that terrifying "fight-forever" growth curve, Goku could absolutely defeat King Piccolo.
But…
Vitelli wasn't on Earth.
Bulma was.
And if the battle spilled toward West City—
If a stray blast, a panic, a catastrophe touched her—
Even a one-in-a-thousand chance felt unacceptable.
As for the Guardian's throne?
…No thanks.
Vitelli didn't even bother pretending. A small planet's "divine office" wasn't remotely attractive to him.
He turned immediately to Whis, who was sipping tea with that maddening elegance.
"Whis," Vitelli said, voice firm. "I need to go back to Earth—right now. Please send me."
"Hohoho~" Whis lowered his teacup, smiling in a gentle, slightly amused way. "Vitelli-san is truly devoted to Bulma-sama… However, these next few days are a bit…"
His eyes drifted, ever so slightly, toward the distant direction of Beerus's palace.
Before Whis could finish, Bulma's voice came through the staff projection at the perfect time—bright, casual, dangerously "incidental."
"Oh dear… This is so troublesome. With Vitelli not home, I tried to keep busy and—oops—I accidentally invited the world's top chefs to the estate…"
"And then—oops again—they accidentally made a once-in-a-lifetime feast…"
"Things like fugu sashimi, dinosaur ribs, rainbow pudding… I can't even remember all the names!"
"I mean… I'm just one person. I can't possibly finish it all. If it spoils or gets thrown away… what a tragedy… so very troublesome…"
Every word was sugar-coated precision.
Whis's eyes—those deep, lazy eyes—lit up like a supernova the moment the dish names landed.
A tiny crack appeared in his perfect composure.
He swallowed.
Once.
Then he stood up at once, spinning his staff with theatrical elegance and laughing lightly.
"Ah, ah~ Vitelli-san is absolutely correct. Earth matters greatly right now."
"As a teacher who truly cares for his disciple… how could I possibly stand aside?"
"Let's go at once!"
The speed of the attitude change was so shameless that Vitelli's mouth twitched.
Mr. Popo's face remained expressionless… but somehow his eye corner looked like it twitched too.
Whis waved politely into the empty air.
"Oracle Fish-san, I'll leave the house to you."
From behind a rock, the Oracle Fish watched Whis disappear, having heard everything—including Bulma's deadly accurate "food bargaining."
It rolled a giant fishy eye, fins on its hips.
"Hmph. So noble, huh? He got baited by food and ran."
"…Hope he remembers to bring me snacks when he comes back…"
Then—
BOOOOM—!!
A heavy, penetrating crash erupted from deep inside Beerus's palace.
The entire realm shuddered.
The Oracle Fish's expression froze into sheer terror.
"Oh no… oh no, no, no—!"
"Beerus-sama woke up?! Why now?!"
It vanished instantly.
Somewhere in Deep Space
Whis carried Vitelli through space at a speed that made stars stretch into shining tails and galaxies fold backward like paper.
Then—without warning—Whis stopped.
Not "slowed."
Stopped.
His relaxed expression vanished, replaced by a rare look of resigned annoyance.
"Ah…" Whis sighed softly. "Of course… he wakes up now."
Vitelli steadied himself in the void, frowning. "What happened?"
Whis studied him briefly and spoke quickly.
"Vitelli-san… you have a technique called Instant Transmission, yes? Long-distance movement by sensing ki?"
"Yes," Vitelli answered, already guessing.
"Good." Whis's tone sharpened. "We are close enough now that you can teleport to Earth by yourself."
"I need to return to Beerus-sama immediately."
Then Whis's expression turned serious in a way that made Vitelli's instincts flare.
"Please tell Bulma-sama this: preserve the food. Carefully."
"I will bring a… troublesome 'god' to taste it."
"This concerns Earth's survival. She must take it seriously."
Vitelli's stomach dropped.
"A god…?"
Whis was bringing Beerus to Earth.
Now it made sense why Whis wanted Vitelli to go first: Beerus had awakened and noticed his attendant was missing.
Vitelli nodded hard.
"I understand."
He raised two fingers to his forehead, expanding his senses like a net.
He locked onto a familiar ki signature on Earth—
Goku.
"Then I'm going."
Flash.
Vitelli vanished, leaving only a faint ripple in space.
Whis watched the empty spot and sighed.
Then he smiled again—polite, resigned, and slightly amused.
"Hohoho~ Looks like I'll be calming down a very grumpy deity."
"Let's hope Bulma-sama's cooking can save the day."
He turned, becoming a streak of light back toward Beerus's realm.
Earth — The Battlefield: Goku vs. King Piccolo
Blue light flooded the sky.
Goku's face—still young, still honest—was lit by the glow of his Kamehameha.
"Ka… me… ha… me… HAAAA—!!!"
The beam roared forward like a tidal wave—straight at King Piccolo, who was too weak to dodge.
Death arrived in a single second.
"WAIT—!! You can't kill me!" King Piccolo screamed, grabbing at his last trump card.
"I'm one body with the Guardian! If you kill me, the Guardian dies too! Earth will lose its Guardian!"
It was his final shield.
Goku blinked, curious—even as he kept firing.
"Guardian? Can you eat that?"
And with perfect sincerity:
"HAAAA—!!!"
The beam intensified.
King Piccolo's mind went blank.
This kid—this idiot—didn't care.
No fear. No hesitation. No political hostage situation.
Just a boy with a big attack.
Piccolo shut his eyes, despair swallowing him whole.
He was too old. Too damaged.
He couldn't even create an egg for revenge.
Then—
Someone appeared.
Right in front of him.
Right in the beam's path.
As if the timing was calculated to the fraction of a heartbeat.
Vitelli.
He had just arrived—barely oriented—when the Kamehameha slammed into him.
Vitelli's first thought was not panic.
It was pure disbelief.
"…Goku."
"I come back to Earth and this is my welcome gift?"
He raised his right hand casually—open palm—like brushing aside an annoying insect.
WHOOSH—
No explosion.
No clash.
The Kamehameha's direction was forcibly twisted at the moment of contact.
A perfect ninety-degree turn—
and the beam shot off into the sky, roaring away into the distance.
Far, far away…
It shoved the Moon sideways.
Vitelli froze for a beat.
"…I swear I didn't mean to do that."
Then he turned his head calmly toward King Piccolo.
"Yo," Vitelli said, eyebrows raised. "Old Piccolo. You look… terrible."
Goku finally recognized him and lit up.
"Vitelli!! You're back?! That was amazing! You just slapped my Kamehameha away!"
King Piccolo, meanwhile, had whiplashed from death to salvation.
Shock became wild, arrogant joy.
"WAHAHAHAHA!!"
"I knew it! Fate favors King Piccolo!"
He straightened his hunched body and stared at Vitelli like he was granting charity.
"Boy! I don't know who you are, but you saved me! Kill that child, and when I rule the world, you'll be second only to me!"
Vitelli stared at him like he'd discovered a new species of stupidity.
"…Are you always this brave?"
"Who gave you the courage to talk to me like that—your grandma?"
Then Vitelli reached into a capsule case and flicked something green at Piccolo.
"Here. Senzu bean. Eat it."
King Piccolo's eyes exploded with greedy recognition.
He snatched it and swallowed without hesitation.
BOOM—
Life energy surged through him.
Bones snapped back into place. Wounds sealed. His body regained force.
Wrinkles eased.
Power returned.
"YES…!! POWER!!" he roared, intoxicated. "My strength—!"
He turned to Vitelli, his gratitude already rotting into arrogance.
"Now then… you insolent—"
Vitelli was suddenly in front of him.
A hand like a steel clamp seized Piccolo's throat.
"—?!"
All strength vanished into irrelevance.
Piccolo struggled, flared his aura, attacked—nothing moved Vitelli's fingers even a fraction.
Vitelli's voice was ice.
"Spit. An egg."
Piccolo's pupils trembled.
How—how did this man know—
Vitelli tightened his grip slightly.
"Spit. The egg."
Desperation crushed pride.
Piccolo tried a last betrayal—point-blank, full-power blast into Vitelli's chest.
BOOOOM!!
Purple energy devoured the area.
Dust and shockwaves tore the ground open.
Goku shouted, alarmed: "Vitelli!!"
The smoke cleared.
Vitelli stood exactly where he'd been.
Hair unmoved.
He was even idly pinching Goku's cheek with his free hand like nothing had happened.
"Spit. The egg."
King Piccolo broke.
He nodded—humiliated, terrified.
Vitelli released his throat but kept a firm grip on his shoulder.
Piccolo convulsed.
His body forced out everything it had left.
"GRAAAH—!!"
A huge, slime-coated green egg erupted from his mouth—
then shot into the sky as a streak of green light and vanished beyond the horizon.
Vitelli watched it go with mild interest.
He didn't chase.
"Good," Vitelli said flatly. "You're done."
Piccolo tried to speak—
Vitelli didn't allow it.
A tiny spark of golden light formed on his fingertip.
PFFT.
A thin golden ray pierced Piccolo's forehead.
His hatred, fear, and fury froze mid-expression—
then emptied.
King Piccolo collapsed dead into the sand.
Just like that.
Like an ant crushed without ceremony.
Vitelli turned to Goku, voice shifting back to casual.
"I'm heading to West City. Bulma's probably worried."
"Wanna come? She made a feast."
Goku scratched his head, glanced at Piccolo's corpse, then grinned.
"Nah! Master Roshi and Krillin are waiting for me."
"But save me some food!"
He called his Flying Nimbus and shot away in a golden streak.
Vitelli immediately launched into the sky—
fast.
Because Beerus was coming, and he needed Bulma ready.
At the very least…
Bulma could not repeat the original timeline's legendary mistake: slapping the God of Destruction.
And in Vitelli's mind, another thought curled into a confident, dangerous smile:
Give me a few more years… and I won't just survive Beerus.
I'll fight him evenly.
The Lookout — The Guardian Watches
High above Earth, the Guardian witnessed everything.
The Kamehameha.
Vitelli's arrival.
The forced egg.
The execution.
His ancient green face twisted through shock, confusion, dread, and then—
deep relief.
"…It's over?" he whispered.
The sacrifice he had prepared for… never happened.
No tragic end. No mutual destruction.
King Piccolo—his centuries-long nightmare—had been treated like a toy.
But one detail made the Guardian's skin crawl:
Vitelli forcing the egg.
"How… how did he know that secret?"
"I never told him… that Piccolo and I are one origin…"
He couldn't understand it.
He also couldn't deny what he'd learned:
Vitelli was strong—and he loved Bulma enough to move instantly for her safety.
That mattered.
Still, the egg's escape left a shadow.
The Guardian stared at the far horizon, uneasy.
A new storm would come someday.
But for now…
The greatest crisis was gone.
He exhaled a breath that felt like releasing a burden carried for centuries.
"Popo," he sent the message through his connection.
"King Piccolo has been dealt with. Return to the Lookout."
Then he paused—quietly embarrassed by his earlier decision.
The throne.
The succession.
He stared down at Earth with a flicker of attachment.
"The position of Guardian…"
He found a convenient step to retreat onto:
Vitelli is too young.
His power is immense, but his temperament… still needs refining.
And he may not even want the role.
This responsibility… I will carry it a little longer.
So the Guardian—who had been ready to die—
chose, for the moment…
to keep living.
And to delay the handover.
Because the world had changed.
And he needed time to understand what kind of man Vitelli truly was.
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