The news spread like an unstoppable wildfire.
Screens, newspapers, emergency broadcasts.
A single name.
Pickle.
A human being—if he could even be called that—originating from an era where survival was decided by fangs and raw strength.
And the martial world… felt it.
Baki's house was silent.
On the television, the images repeated over and over again: a gigantic man with a primitive physique, walking among scientists as if they were helpless children.
Baki Hanma watched the screen with his arms crossed, expressionless.
But his eyes… shone.
"Incredible…" he murmured. "A man who hunted dinosaurs."
Beside him stood his father.
Yujiro Hanma.
The Ogre.
Yujiro smiled.
Not a normal smile.
A predator's smile.
"Hah…" he let out, amused. "So the past has decided to bite the present."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes blazing, as if he were staring at long-awaited prey.
Elsewhere—
Doppo Orochi was watching the same report.
But he wasn't seeing only Pickle.
He saw something else.
His brows slowly furrowed.
'…No.'
His mind drifted backward.
A vivid memory.
A young man with a wild gaze… a dangerous smile… a relaxed, almost careless stance.
One strike.
A single strike.
Muhammad Ali Jr. rolling across the ground, unable to stand.
"…That kid," Doppo muttered in a deep voice. "He looks the same."
Katsumi, beside him, looked at him in surprise.
"Sensei?"
Doppo clenched his teeth.
"The rhythm. The pressure. The sense of danger."
"It wasn't technique… it was pure instinct."
His eyes returned to the screen.
Pickle roared.
'…They're the same type.'
In a private apartment, several figures watched the broadcast.
Ohma Tokita leaned closer to the screen.
"That…" he murmured. "It's incredible. Who would've thought the past would return to challenge the present?"
"This thing isn't human," Kanoh Agito replied calmly. "It's a living weapon."
In another room—
Kuroki Gensai slowly closed his eyes.
"A man who belongs to no style."
"Someone born to survive things far more dangerous than combat."
Elsewhere—
Raian Kure lounged lazily in a chair, grinning widely.
"Hahahaha…"
"I want to fight that thing."
Nearby, Erioh Kure wasn't laughing.
His expression was grim.
'Pickle…'
And unwillingly, another image crossed his mind.
Derek.
"Boy…" Erioh muttered irritably. "You already lost to his brother. Now you want to challenge the elder one?"
Raian released an invisible pressure—dense and dangerous.
'…Next time, I won't lose.'
The Tendo dojo was unusually quiet.
Ranma stared at the television with his mouth hanging open.
"That's supposed to be human?"
Akane frowned.
"Don't be stupid. Didn't you hear what they said?"
"He's from the age of dinosaurs. Humans didn't even exist back then."
Genma, stuck in panda form, was sweating profusely.
"Panda…!"
(That's not normal!)
Cologne observed the screen with narrowed eyes.
"A body shaped by an era without mercy…"
"Interesting."
Ranma swallowed.
"Old lady…"
"Could that guy…?"
Cologne smiled faintly.
"Beat you?"
"Yes."
Ranma turned pale.
Back with Doppo—
He turned off the television.
His hands trembled slightly.
'Pickle…'
'And that kid… Derek.'
The memory of Ali Jr. was still fresh.
It wasn't a fight.
It was a humiliation.
"If Pickle is the past…" Doppo murmured.
"Then that kid…"
He clenched his fist.
"…Hehehe, this is getting really exciting."
"You're far more interesting than I expected."
Across the world, fighters, masters, and monsters felt the same thing.
An ancient pressure.
A warning.
The martial world was changing.
And somewhere, two predators were walking toward the same stage.
The past had awakened.
And the present…
was not ready.