📖 CHAPTER 15 – A Different Form
The desert was quiet now.
The wind had softened. Sand drifted lazily across the craters left behind. Pilaf's ruined fortress stood half-buried in the aftermath of our clash.
Goku stretched his arms over his head.
"Man! That was awesome!"
I stood several meters away, the black exoskeleton still layered across my body. The cracks across my chest plating had sealed, but the structure felt… heavy.
Unnecessary.
The fight had ended.
There was no threat.
No predator.
No need for apex defense.
The armor began to shift.
Bulma stiffened immediately. "Uh… what is it doing now?"
The hardened chitin softened first at the shoulders. The layered plates receded like liquid shadow, flowing inward toward my spine. The wings behind me folded tightly — then dissolved into strands of dark energy before vanishing completely.
The sound was subtle. Not cracking. Not tearing.
Reforming.
The exoskeleton peeled back in sections, sliding across my skin before retracting into my body. Black plating thinned, retreated, and disappeared entirely, revealing human skin beneath.
My height reduced slightly. My silhouette changed.
Claws became fingers.
The hardened mask across my face dissolved last.
When it was finished, I stood barefoot in the sand — fully human in appearance.
No wings.
No armor.
No visible inhuman features.
Just a young man with dark hair, steady eyes, and calm posture.
Oolong blinked rapidly.
"W–Where did the scary part go?!"
Puar floated closer, cautious. "He feels… different."
Yamcha narrowed his eyes. "His energy dropped."
He was correct.
Internally, I could feel it clearly.
The exoskeleton form enhanced structural durability and physical output. Without it, my raw defense and strength had decreased.
Approximately thirty percent.
My muscles felt lighter. My body more flexible. Less fortified.
But not weak.
Never weak.
Goku stepped forward, hands behind his head, completely relaxed.
"Ohhh! So this is what you really look like!"
"This is my base form," I answered calmly.
Bulma walked closer, pushing her goggles up. She circled me once.
"You're… human?"
"Yes."
"Mostly?" she pressed.
I considered the question.
"Yes."
That seemed to satisfy her enough.
Goku stopped in front of me, grinning.
"You didn't tell us your name."
He was right.
I had fought him.
Tested him.
But never properly introduced myself.
I straightened slightly.
"My name is—"
(Insert your MC's chosen name here if you have one. For now, I'll use a placeholder.)
"—Aren."
Bulma crossed her arms. "Aren, huh? Well Aren, you nearly destroyed half the desert."
"Unintentional."
Goku laughed loudly. "You were amazing! I've never fought anyone like you before!"
He leaned closer, eyes bright with curiosity rather than suspicion.
"So what are you gonna do now?"
A valid question.
My purpose in coming here had been understanding.
Testing.
Evaluating the strength of this world's warriors.
I had achieved that.
But growth required refinement.
Combat instinct alone was not mastery.
Technique mattered.
Structure mattered.
Discipline mattered.
Before I could answer, Goku slapped his fist into his palm.
"Oh! That's right!"
Bulma blinked. "What?"
"I was gonna go see Master Roshi!"
Yamcha looked confused. "The Turtle Hermit?"
Goku nodded excitedly. "Yeah! Grandpa Gohan told me about him! He's a super strong martial arts master who lives on a tiny island!"
Bulma's eyes lit up. "Wait, wait — that perverted old guy with the turtle shell?"
"That's the one!" Goku said cheerfully.
Oolong groaned. "Oh no."
Goku turned back to me.
"You should come!"
I looked at him.
"Why?"
He tilted his head as if the answer was obvious.
"'Cause you're strong! And he's strong! If you wanna get even better, that's where you go!"
He pointed toward the horizon as if the island were already visible.
"Master Roshi teaches real martial arts. Not just fighting — like, proper training!"
Yamcha crossed his arms thoughtfully. "He is legendary. Even I've heard of him."
Bulma smirked. "Plus if we're traveling anyway, might as well see if the old geezer's actually as strong as the stories say."
I considered the proposal.
During our fight, I had relied on instinct and adaptation.
It worked.
But Goku's movement had structure — a foundation built from training under Grandpa Gohan.
There were subtleties in his footwork.
Efficiency in his rotations.
Breathing control.
That was not instinct.
That was teaching.
If my strength in base form was reduced by thirty percent…
Then refinement would compensate.
Mastery of technique would close that gap.
I looked at Goku.
"You are going to train?"
"Yup!" he said proudly. "I wanna get way stronger!"
"Then I will go."
His grin widened instantly.
"Awesome!"
Bulma threw her hands up. "Great. Another battle maniac."
Oolong sniffed. "As long as he doesn't turn back into a giant bug monster again…"
I glanced at him.
"That form requires purpose."
He froze. "I'll behave."
Yamcha stepped forward slightly.
"You really lost power when you changed."
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Thirty percent reduction in physical durability and raw strength output."
He whistled quietly. "And you're still that strong?"
"Yes."
Goku bounced lightly on his feet.
"Then it's settled! We're going to Master Roshi's island!"
Bulma sighed but smiled anyway. "Fine. But someone's carrying the supplies."
Goku immediately pointed at Yamcha.
"Hey!"
The tension had dissolved completely.
The battlefield had become a starting point.
I looked once more at the desert — at the craters carved by our clash.
The anomaly had arrived as something unknown.
Now I walked forward as something defined.
Aren.
Warrior.
Seeker of mastery.
And soon—
Student.
Goku waved enthusiastically as he began walking.
"C'mon! It's this way! I think! …Probably!"
Bulma groaned. "You don't even know where it is, do you?!"
He laughed.
And for the first time since entering this world…
I followed not as an observer.
But as part of the journey.
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