"I'm back, Bulma!"
The moment Vitelli stepped through the door, he was met with Bulma's most enthusiastic welcome.
Her cheerful shout was like the sweetest note in the world. She sprang up from her chair and, with perfect accuracy, hurled herself into the embrace he'd opened for her.
Vitelli caught her easily, savoring the soft warmth in his arms and the frank longing and joy she didn't even try to hide.
He laughed freely, lifting Bulma and spinning her around on the spot several times. She giggled nonstop, her short blue hair flying in the air.
Only when Bulma, still laughing, started patting his shoulder did he finally stop, reluctant to let go. He carried her to the wide, plush sofa in the living room, adjusted his posture, and let her sit comfortably in his lap.
"I'm home," Vitelli murmured, lowering his head so his forehead touched hers. His voice was low and gentle.
Bulma's face glowed with a happy flush. She nodded hard.
After a little while of cuddling, Bulma finally spoke.
"So you went to deal with King Piccolo just now?"
She asked casually while looping her arms around his neck. Clearly, she wasn't all that interested in the demon king who had nearly destroyed the world—her whole attention was on the lover who'd finally come home.
"How did you know I was the one who handled it?" Vitelli asked, a little curious.
"Dummy! It was live on TV." Bulma answered with a helpless sigh. Then, as if remembering something far more important, her sapphire eyes lit up like fireworks.
"With what Mr. Popo said earlier—was that true? The Guardian really wants you to take over his position? To become Earth's new Guardian?!"
Vitelli blinked before he caught up. Seeing Bulma looking like she'd just won the lottery, he rolled his eyes dramatically.
"You don't seriously want me to become this 'Guardian' thing, do you?"
"Of course I do!"
Bulma nodded hard, grinning as she shook his arm, her eyes glittering with pure admiration.
"That's the Guardian! The legendary 'Kami-sama'! That's someone out of a story! Aren't you tempted? Think about it—if you become Earth's god, and I tell my girlfriends about it, how awesome would that be?"
Vitelli shook his head right away, half-laughing as he pinched her excited little cheeks.
"Oh, please, my lady. That 'Kami-sama' seat isn't as great as you think."
He wrapped an arm around her and turned serious.
"Forget everything else—just this one point. If I become Earth's Guardian, I basically can't leave the planet whenever I want. I'd have to stand watch over it all the time. So what happens when Miss Bulma suddenly decides she wants to go out into space to watch a comet, or hop to another planet for fun? Am I supposed to let you fly off alone, drifting through the endless universe by yourself? Is that what you want?"
The image he painted froze the excitement right off her face. In her mind, she saw it—
Herself alone in a ship, surrounded by boundless, cold stars. Just her. No one else.
Even imagining it made her shiver.
Bulma sucked in a breath, snapping instantly back to reality.
"Yeah, no! That won't work! Absolutely not!"
She shook her head like a rattle drum and clung to his arm.
"Forget it! We're not doing this Guardian thing! Whoever wants it can take it. Traveling together is way more important!"
Seeing Bulma scared straight so easily, Vitelli's eyes flashed with a teasing smile.
He tightened an arm around her waist and went on.
"And besides… whether the current Guardian is actually willing to keep his promise and hand the job to me is still a big question."
Bulma looked up, puzzled.
Vitelli curled his lips into a meaning-laden grin. "He wanted to pass it to me because he thought his time was up. He planned to sacrifice himself to wipe out King Piccolo for good, so he needed someone strong to guard Earth after him. But now…"
He drew the word out. "King Piccolo's already been dealt with by me. His 'doom clock' got pushed back. Do you really think some old guy who just narrowly survived—and has been Guardian for centuries—is going to happily hand over the throne of power and status to some… well, in his eyes, probably 'unfathomable' alien?"
He added with a chuckle, "Heh. Even though he's an alien himself."
Bulma blinked, taking in what he meant, then her mouth fell open a little.
"You're saying… the Guardian is an alien? And he might go back on his word?"
"Not might. Probably will."
Vitelli shrugged.
"But whatever—we're not interested anyway. Let that old man keep working. We'll enjoy the quiet."
Seeing Bulma still mulling over the Guardian stuff, Vitelli didn't want her wasting energy on it. He immediately changed topics.
"By the way, something more important."
"Huh? What is it?" Bulma's attention snapped back.
Vitelli straightened. "In a bit, the God of Destruction Beerus is coming here."
"God of Destruction… Beerus?"
The name was unfamiliar, though she felt like she'd heard it once or twice from Whis.
Just the title "God of Destruction" told her this wasn't a small matter.
Vitelli nodded.
"The god Whis serves. He can destroy planets or even entire galaxies with ease. His temper is… huge. Like, very huge. And he's insanely capricious. When he gets here, if he talks bad or acts arrogant, and you feel annoyed…"
Vitelli paused, meeting Bulma's eyes. "Don't act on impulse. If you can help it, don't clap back right to his face. I'm not his match yet. I can protect you, no problem, but if it turns into an all-out fight, I'm not there yet."
Bulma froze for a beat, then rolled her eyes with a sultry annoyance.
She poked his chest. "Hey! In your head I'm some brainless, spoiled princess who throws tantrums anywhere, anytime? I'm not stupid. If he's someone we can't afford to offend, why would I pick a fight? We just treat him well, feed him, and that's that."
She was blunt by nature, but as Capsule Corporation's heiress, she understood social stakes.
Vitelli, however, shook his head with a smile. He caught the finger she used to poke him, and his gaze turned icy sharp.
An invisible killing aura seeped out.
"No, Bulma. You've got it wrong. I'm not telling you to swallow your pride. I'm definitely not telling you to fear him."
He looked straight at her and spoke slowly, clearly, firmly.
"What I mean is: if nothing happens, sure, avoid conflict. But if he really ticks you off—if he makes you feel insulted or wronged—then you don't have to be afraid at all. Curse him out if you want. Roast him if you want. Don't hold back."
"Why?!" Bulma was stunned. She wondered if she'd misheard.
He'd just said he couldn't win, and now he was telling her to go off?
Vitelli's eyes burned with resolve.
"I'm not letting Vitelli's woman suffer. Worst case, I'll fight him. My overall strength's still below his, but if I throw everything on the line and burn it all, I'm pretty sure I can land something vicious. I'll make him understand that messing with my woman has a price—God of Destruction or not."
His words were absolute, full of iron will and a hint of madness.
He wasn't joking. For Bulma, he'd punch a god.
Bulma's heart clenched. A rush of warmth and safety flooded her. Her eyes went hot.
She was about to say something—
When a cold, indifferent voice suddenly sounded beside them without warning.
"Oh hoo~ Is that so?"
It wasn't loud, but it raised goosebumps instantly.
Vitelli and Bulma's hair stood on end.
At the same time, space in the middle of the living room rippled like water. A dazzling rainbow streak appeared out of nowhere and condensed into shape.
The light faded, revealing two figures.
Standing in front was the God of Destruction Vitelli had mentioned—Beerus.
Beerus and his angel attendant Whis had arrived.
Beerus was small and lean, dressed in strange divine robes trimmed with purple patterns. His skin was a pale violet, hairless, his head shaped like an elegant, cold, furless cat.
Those golden slit pupils were studying Vitelli with clear interest, his mouth curling in a playful smile.
An oppressive aura of destruction—like the end of all things—radiated from him.
Half a step behind him stood Whis, elegant as ever, staff in hand.
Whis was covering his mouth politely, his violet eyes crescented with shameless schadenfreude.
Which meant Vitelli's "I'll give him a nasty surprise if I have to" speech had been heard in full.
Beerus locked onto Vitelli, showing sharp teeth with a predator's grin.
"From what I just heard… you seem pretty confident in your strength, huh?"
The air in the living room instantly froze. Bulma instinctively grabbed Vitelli's arm, her palm slick with sweat.
Vitelli's heart skipped, but months of training and nerves of steel made him steady almost immediately.
He patted Bulma's hand in reassurance, then stood smoothly, wearing a perfectly polite smile.
"Lord Beerus, Master Whis, welcome to the Briefs estate."
He even bowed lightly—fluid, natural—like he hadn't just been caught talking smack.
Bulma snapped into hostess mode too. She stood quickly, switching to a warm, proper social smile.
"Welcome, welcome! You must be tired from your journey. Lunch is ready—all Earth's finest cuisine. How about we eat while we talk?"
She deftly steered the tension toward food.
Beerus' slit pupils swept over Vitelli and Bulma. The pressure in the room made the temperature feel like it dropped.
After a long beat, Beerus snorted coldly.
"Hmph. Food? Fine. But I'm warning you—if the taste doesn't satisfy me…"
His gaze slid past them to the bustling skyline of West City outside the window, his voice icily casual.
"I'll destroy you—and this worthless planet."
Bulma's smile stiffened for a fraction of a second, but she recovered fast.
Vitelli acted like he hadn't even heard the threat. He smiled confidently, even with a hint of teasing.
"Relax, Lord Beerus. About the taste, I can only say…"
He paused dramatically, then said two words with iron certainty:
"Guaranteed."
Bulma guided the two gods into the lavish dining room.
The huge table was already covered with a dazzling spread.
Just as Bulma had "accidentally" let slip earlier, paper-thin fugu sashimi gleamed pearly under the lights.
Dinosaur ribs were grilled to a perfect edge-crisp, inside-tender melt, the smoky aroma of fruitwood filling the air.
Rainbow dream pudding was layered in seven colors like a work of art, sweet fragrance drifting upward.
Countless other dishes crowded the table, each one painstakingly prepared.
Beerus' eyes fell on the feast. His pupils tightened slightly. His nose twitched, almost imperceptibly.
Whis' eyes sparkled openly with delight.
And then… everything changed.
Once Beerus and Whis actually started eating, Vitelli learned what "god-tier eating speed" really meant.
Beerus lost all chill and majesty. He ate like he hadn't seen food in centuries—hands moving like lightning.
Fork and knife became afterimages. He skewered the biggest rib, shoved it into his mouth, swallowed after two bites without even spitting the bone.
Sashimi vanished like flowing water. Pudding got scooped down by the spoonful until it was gone.
He didn't even pretend at table manners. His cheeks bulged, purring like a cat. Food crunched loudly between his teeth.
Whis, somehow still elegant, was no slower. He always predicted Beerus' target, then slid in with a better angle, "borrowed" the tastiest section onto his own plate, and ate it calmly—yet terrifyingly efficiently.
It looked like a silent war for food. Plates emptied at visible speed.
Watching a God of Destruction fight over meat like this, Vitelli's mouth twitched while his inner voice screamed:
"Bro. Seriously? You're gods. Can you have even a little divine dignity?!"
But as the food disappeared at warp speed, Vitelli panicked too.
If he didn't move, he'd be lucky to get soup.
He joined the battlefield, shoveling food into his mouth like his life depended on it.
For a while, the table was nothing but clattering dishes and frantic chewing.
Bulma watched three "wolves" devour her feast. She was half annoyed, half amused.
She couldn't even get a bite in. All she could do was bark orders to the robot staff.
"More ribs! Two more plates! Add more fugu! Is there more rainbow pudding? Make two more! Hurry! Hurry!"
She ran logistics like a battlefield commander, and still remembered to slip Vitelli food he couldn't reach—
Because between Whis and Beerus, Vitelli was still the slower amateur.
This so-called "banquet of gods" ended in a whirlwind.
Empty plates piled high like a battlefield graveyard.
Other than Bulma, who'd been serving the whole time, Vitelli, Beerus, and Whis all flopped shamelessly into their chairs, toothpicks in their mouths, hands on their distended stomachs, burping in deep satisfaction. None of them had the strength to move a finger.
The room was filled with lingering aromas and maximum laziness.
Vitelli turned to Beerus with a playful grin.
"So, Lord Beerus? Satisfied with the meal?"
Beerus narrowed his golden eyes with contentment. He gave a lazy "hmph."
This time, the sound held none of the earlier chill or threat—just a sleepy, conquered-by-food sort of tsundere pride.
He even rolled his eyes at Vitelli—not out of spite, but because he was overstuffed.
Time slipped by in the glow of a full belly.
After digestion eased the heavy feeling a bit, Beerus' eyes opened again, now bright with interest.
He sat up, cracked his neck with a few sharp pops, and fixed Vitelli with a sharp gaze.
He flicked away his toothpick, voice amused and combative.
"Earlier you said you could give me a nasty surprise if you got serious. Now that I'm full, seems like a good time to move around."
He grinned. "Well? Want me to give you a chance to try?"
Vitelli's eyes ignited with battle lust.
He sprang up, excitement and eagerness clear on his face.
"I'd love to, Lord Beerus!"
He'd been craving a true fight to test what he'd gained from training in the realm of destruction.
Whis was too unfathomable to consider. Beerus, though, was the perfect measuring rod.
Beerus laughed, turning into a streak of purple light that blasted through the ceiling and shot into the sky.
Vitelli followed, a golden trail chasing after him.
"Hey! I'm coming too—wait up!" Bulma dashed into the yard, popped a capsule, and with a bang produced a small flying craft. She climbed in and rocketed upward.
Whis rose unhurriedly, drifting beside Bulma's craft with a spectator's calm smile—protecting her from stray shockwaves while enjoying the show.
Over a barren stretch of wasteland outside West City, Vitelli and Beerus faced each other in midair, hundreds of meters apart.
Wind roared around them, tugging at their clothes.
Below lay endless red-brown earth. No people. Perfect.
Beerus folded his arms, lazy posture but sharp eyes. He crooned a finger at Vitelli, smirking.
"Come on, kid. You go first. Use your full strength and entertain me. Show me what Whis has taught you."
Vitelli didn't answer the taunt.
He didn't flare up or transform into Super Saiyan either.
Instead, he closed his eyes slowly, as if merging with the howling wind.
He floated silently like a statue, his presence vanishing from the world.
An invisible storm brewed beneath that stillness.
Air around him grew heavy, viscous. A field expanded outward.
Vitelli's eyes snapped open.
In the black depths of his pupils, silver starlight exploded.
A sacred, vast power erupted like a waking volcano.
Bzzzz—!!!
No blazing aura. No blinding glare.
A thin, nearly transparent layer of pale silver light coated Vitelli's body.
Beerus' pupils dilated violently. His face went rigid with shock as he stared like he'd seen a monster.
Under his breath, he muttered, word by word:
"Ultra… Instinct…?!"