Do you dare to gamble?
Yamcha looked at Korin and suddenly smiled.
"Master Korin, from the moment I crawled out of the grave, every step I've taken has been a gamble."
He gambled that the Androids wouldn't find him immediately, gambled that he could find supplies in the ruins, gambled that the Hoi-Poi Capsule wouldn't contain useless junk, and gambled that he could climb Korin Tower.
Now, this was just one more gamble.
And it was the one with the highest stakes—the one closest to the finish line.
"I'll take the gamble."
Yamcha's answer came without the slightest hesitation.
Korin nodded in approval.
He took another Senzu Bean from the jar and handed it to Yamcha.
"Remember, you only get one chance," Korin warned.
"All the Ki you have can only sustain one burst like this."
"In the air, you won't have any chance to adjust. The direction and angle must be calculated the moment you jump."
"I understand."
Yamcha walked to the edge of the platform and looked up at the sky.
The sky was vast and clear.
High above, a tiny black dot was barely visible.
The Lookout.
His destination.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
He didn't leap right away; instead, he simulated the entire motion in his mind with all his strength.
Wind speed, air resistance, his own body weight, the explosive force of his Ki… most of it was guesswork, but he had to make those guesses as accurate as possible.
He slowly guided the Ki in his body down toward the soles of his feet.
The warm current that once felt like a faint trickle had become a raging river after consuming the Senzu Bean and surviving so many brushes with death.
All his power gathered—compressed—into a single point.
An intense white light began to shine beneath his feet, and the air around him distorted from the concentrated energy.
The stone slabs under him began to crack.
Korin stepped back a few paces, watching silently.
He could feel that Yamcha was gathering power far beyond what his physical body should be able to withstand.
Yamcha bent his knees slightly, like a bow drawn to its absolute limit.
Fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. Compressing such a massive amount of energy was an enormous test of will.
But he endured.
His mind was razor-sharp.
There was no fear of death, no uncertainty about the future.
There was only one thought:
Get up there.
Reach that place.
And survive.
When all the Ki was compressed to the limit, when he felt as if his legs were about to be torn apart by the overwhelming force—
He suddenly opened his eyes!
They were filled with unprecedented determination and madness.
"Now!"
He roared toward the heavens with everything he had.
"YAAAAAAAH—!!!"
In that instant, he released all the energy compressed beneath his feet—without holding back even a sliver!
BOOM—!!!!
The explosion was like thunder splitting the sky.
The entire Korin Tower trembled violently.
The platform beneath Yamcha's feet was blown open by the sheer force, leaving a massive hole as debris scattered in all directions.
And Yamcha—propelled by that colossal recoil—shot upward like a blazing white comet, a cannonball firing straight into the firmament!
The wind shrieked wildly in his ears.
The Korin Tower beneath him shrank at an incredible rate.
Yamcha strained with all his strength to stabilize his posture as he pierced through layer after layer of clouds like an arrow.
He felt as if his body were being torn apart; the pressure from the high-speed ascent made even breathing difficult.
But he did not give up.
His eyes were fixed on that tiny black dot in the sky.
His only target. The only hope.
Closer.
Even closer!
He could already make out the massive, dome-shaped underside of the Lookout.
But the power in his body was draining rapidly.
The propulsion from the blast had reached its limit.
His upward speed began to slow.
Just a little more… just a little more!
"Get… up… there!!!"
Yamcha roared in his heart, forcing out the very last bit of strength in his body, stretching his hand upward with everything he had.
His fingertips were less than a meter from the smooth white tiles of the Lookout.
Yet that single meter felt like an impossible gulf.
His upward momentum disappeared completely.
Gravity seized him, and his body began to fall.
It's over… A flicker of despair crossed Yamcha's eyes.
Had he still failed in the end?
Just as he was about to plummet downward, a chubby black hand wearing a white glove suddenly reached out from the edge of the Lookout and firmly grabbed his outstretched wrist.
"Got you."
A calm, gentle voice sounded in his ear.
...
That large, black hand—warm and steady—clamped tightly around Yamcha's wrist, pulling him back from the edge of freefall.
Yamcha was hauled up completely, landing hard on the cold, smooth white tiles.
He gasped like a fish out of water, his heart still pounding uncontrollably.
"Phew… ha… ha… I'm alive…"
"Are you the Yamcha Korin mentioned? The one who died and came back to life?"
A calm, gentle voice came from above him.
Yamcha pushed himself up and looked.
A tall, stout figure stood there—dressed in Arabic-style clothing, dark-skinned, thick-lipped, pointed ears, and two round, bead-like eyes watching him quietly.
"Po… Mr. Popo?" Yamcha's jaw dropped.
Holy crap—this really was Popo! One of the most mysterious figures in the Dragon Ball world!
"It is I," Mr. Popo said with a small nod, his expression unchanged, as if saving someone from ten thousand meters in the air was just another chore.
Yamcha quickly scrambled to his feet and bowed. "Thank you, Mr. Popo! If it weren't for you, I… I'd be a stain on Korin Tower right now."
"You're welcome. Guarding the Lookout is my duty," Popo replied in his usual flat tone.
Yamcha looked around, awe rising in his chest.
This was the Lookout.
The entire structure was paved with spotless, gleaming white tiles, with patches of lush green plants decorating the edges.
In the distance stood several palace-like buildings, silent and solemn.
Below him stretched a boundless sea of clouds, and above, the sky felt close enough to touch.
It was so quiet he could hear his own heartbeat—a serene, untouched sanctuary separated from the ruined world below.
But Yamcha quickly sensed something amiss.
Too quiet.
Far too quiet.
With no Kami, no Piccolo… this magnificent place felt like a grand tomb. Only Popo remained, guarding it day after day.
A strange loneliness seeped from every corner, making Yamcha feel a chill.
"Mr. Popo… are you the only one here?" Yamcha asked carefully.
Popo didn't answer the question directly. Instead, he turned and walked toward the edge of the Lookout.
"Come with me."
Yamcha's heart tightened, and he quickly followed.
Popo led him to the very edge of the Lookout.
From here, the entire world below spread out like a distant, ruined landscape.
And there—sitting cross-legged at the edge—was a short figure wearing a Hawaiian shirt, beach shorts, sunglasses, and a turtle shell on his back.
Yamcha froze mid-step.
His eyes locked onto that familiar back, and his breath stopped.
That back… he knew it better than almost any other.