"The Korin Tower..."
The man lay on the ground, ignoring his broken left arm, simply gazing at the towering gray-white structure piercing the heavens.
From this angle, the tower didn't appear straight—it curved slightly, stretching into the horizon as if about to topple and crush him, an utterly ordinary man.
Over a decade had passed since he'd bid farewell to his master and left the dojo, brimming with ambition, to embark on a journey of training across the world. Looking back now, he hadn't grown much stronger than he'd been back then.
The once-youthful head disciple had unwittingly become a scruffy, middle-aged man.
Though he called it a "world-spanning journey", every year, without fail, he'd find himself circling back to the Korin Tower.
And every year, he'd fail.
In all honesty, he didn't think his skills were any worse than his master, Son Lin, in his prime.
Yet Son Lin had climbed the tower and met the gods.
He, on the other hand, had failed.
Over ten times.
"The Korin Tower..."
He murmured it again, his tone and expression hovering between serene acceptance and quiet resignation.
Could anyone actually climb this thing?
"Friend, you alright?" A man face blocked his view of the curving tower. "That arm needs bandaging."
As the indigenous man—dressed in tribal attire—tended to his injury, he said bluntly, "You shouldn't come back."
If he kept challenging the tower like this, one day, he'd fall to his death.
"Yeah. Maybe I shouldn't," the man agreed.
With his left arm slung in a makeshift sling, he chewed on a blade of grass, thanked the tribesman, and climbed into his beat-up car.
The engine sputtered to life. Steering one-handed, elbow propped on the window, he cast one last glance at the tower—its surface weathered, its peak lost in the clouds.
What kind of view was up there?
Sighing, he fished out a beer from under the seat, bit off the cap, and took a long swig, the alcohol dripping onto his unkempt beard.
Put-put-put— The rattling car rolled away.
He had no intention of returning to the dojo, nor any particular destination in mind. He just drove, sticking to routes where he could refuel.
Occasionally, he'd run into bandits or weak remnants of demons, but they were no match for him. Even with one arm out of commission, a man who'd attempted the Korin Tower over a dozen times could handle petty threats with ease.
Days blurred together. He didn't keep count, judging time only by the healing progress of his left arm—likely two or three weeks.
Also, he'd run out of beer.
So thirsty... So bored...
Slumped over the wheel, he drove aimlessly until a towering figure strode past his window, silent and imposing.
The man didn't spare him a glance as they passed.
"What a terrifying face..." the driver mused, lighting a cigarette one-handed.
A short distance later, something massive loomed ahead. His eyes widened.
"Whoa. A giant fridge?!"
Indeed, in the middle of nowhere stood an absurdly large refrigerator—complete with a comically oversized padlock on its door.
"Damn shame!" He stepped out, craning his neck. "Bet there's jumbo-sized beer in there..."
Thunk!
An arrow embedded itself at his feet.
A blonde woman with wavy hair stepped into view, bow drawn. "Move again, and the next one goes through you."
You already shot at me... he thought dryly, letting her tie him to a wooden post. A little girl in a hat materialized beside her, clutching a primitive spear.
"Sister Nivea, is he one of the Gun-Gun's men?" the girl asked.
"Hey, what's in that fridge anyway?" the bound man asked.
"No idea, but we can't let our guard down, Muhi," the blonde said.
"Hey, there's someone sitting on top of that fridge..." the man pointed out.
"Mm. Stay alert, Sister Nivea," the spear-girl nodded solemnly.
"No, seriously—there's literally a person up there!"
"You're so annoying!" The archer Nivea and the spear-girl Muhi snapped in unison.
"I'm serious!" The bound man could only gesture frantically with his chin toward the top of the colossal fridge. Squinting, he added, "Looks like a woman too..."
Nivea and Muhi followed his gaze, shielding their eyes against the sun. Sure enough, a silhouette sat perched atop the giant refrigerator—undeniably female.
"She's amazing. Not afraid of heights?" Nivea murmured.
"That's what you focus on?!" the man grumbled. Just then—
Rat-tat-tat-tat!
A hail of machine-gun fire rained from above, sending all three scrambling. Looking up, they saw a sleek black fighter jet streaking across the sky.
"Cowards! Demons using fighter jets now?!" Nivea cursed.
"Sister Nivea, run!" Muhi bolted like a cartoon character, then doubled back through the gunfire to untie the man.
"What's even in that fridge?!" he yelled as she worked.
"We don't know!" Muhi freed him just as bullets whizzed past—only for the man to block them with his injured arm.
"That hurt," he growled around his cigarette stub, glaring at the jet. "Aiming for a guy's bad arm? Rude... Though it's mostly healed anyway." With a sharp jerk, he shattered his cast with his right fist, flexed his fingers, then leaped—soaring dozens of meters to intercept the jet midair.
BAM!
His punch cratered the cockpit. The plane spiraled down, trailing smoke.
"You're pretty strong," Nivea said, emerging from cover. "Why'd you let me tie you up then?"
"Heh." The man smirked—until an even larger shadow engulfed them. His cigarette dropped.
A battleship, magnitudes larger than the jet, loomed overhead, its cannons locking onto them.
"You've gotta be kidding me..." He paled. "This is bad."
"Hey! Unplug it!" A voice shouted from above.
They turned. The woman on the fridge was pointing at a thick cable snaking to a nearby rock—where a literal plug was socketed into nothing. The man sprinted over and yanked it free. "Where's this even getting power?!"
BOOM!
The fridge's giant lock exploded. The door swung open, and out stomped a massive creature—a saber-toothed dragon still crusted with ice, roaring so fiercely the ground trembled.
"That's... terrifying," the man admitted.
The dragon's roar abruptly shriveled into a mewl as the woman jumped down and thwacked its head.
"Quiet. Go help," Annin ordered, nudging the beast with her foot. "Or do you want to be hotpot ingredients?"
The dragon tucked its wings meekly.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The battleship fired. The dragon took off, wings beating up a gale so fierce it blew the shells back, obliterating the ship in a fireball.
"Wow," Nivea gaped.
The dragon landed, bowing its head for Annin to pat. "Good job. No hotpot for you. Go guard the Furnace of Eight Divisions at Mount Five Elements instead."
I really should spend more time there... she mused.
The dragon purred—yes, purred—in relief.
"You dare ruin my toys?!" A voice thundered from the smoke.
Out stomped a hulking figure—the Gun-Gun—each step shaking the earth. His eyes glowed crimson.
"It's him!" Nivea hid behind the man.
"Scary!" Muhi clung to Nivea.
The man, meanwhile, had already ducked behind the dragon. "Go on! Get him!"
The dragon rolled its eyes and hid behind Annin.
"Now you see why you can't climb the Korin Tower," Annin said dryly to the man. "Hiding won't cut it."
At the tower's mention, the man stiffened. Staring at her, realization struck. "You're—"
The god his master spoke of. The Supreme Elderly Lord.
The Gun-Gun advanced, his aura whipping up a sandstorm.
"S-Supreme Elderly Lord," the man gulped. "You've got this, right?"
"Nope. I'd lose," Annin said cheerfully, watching the demon approach. "Didn't expect any demons this strong left... Wait, no—he's not strong. I'm just weak now." She sighed. "This sucks."
"Are we really done for...?" The saber-toothed dragon and the trio of humans huddled behind Annin, trembling like leaves.
"If you're scared, just run away," Annin said flatly.
"Heh. You think you can escape?" The Gun-Gun loomed before her, his murderous aura freezing the air—
Then stuttered.
His crimson eyes shrank to pinpricks. His body shook. Slowly, stiffly, he turned his head—and saw him.
A towering, terrifying figure stood silently beside him, watching with icy detachment. The unspoken threat was clear: Move another inch, and you'll be erased from existence.
"S-S-Sa... Satan... Great Demon King Satan..." The Gun-Gun's voice was a strangled whisper.
From behind the dragon's legs, the man and the two girls peeked out in a vertical stack. "That's the guy who passed us earlier... He's called Satan?!"
"We're doomed. An even worse monster showed up," Nivea groaned—then noticed Muhi had already fainted.
Satan didn't speak. He simply raised a hand toward the petrified Gun-Gun.
The demon didn't even try to flee. He just stood there, eyes wide with despair.
A flick of Satan's wrist.
BOOM!
A shockwave of ki vaporized the Gun-Gun on the spot.
Then, Satan lowered his hand, turned slightly, and bowed his head with deference. "He harmed humans. As you willed, he has been purged."
Everyone except Annin followed his gaze—to a golden cloud floating midair, upon which sat a masked figure in white robes adorned with divine script.
The man's breath caught. This was the being his master had spoken of...
"The Savior... the God..."
Beside him, the girls gasped, recognizing the legend made flesh.
The masked god—Yamiru—nodded faintly. A gesture, and Satan vanished into the distance.
"You finished the Flying Nimbus?" Annin floated over, only for her foot to phase through the cloud. A question mark popped above her head.
"It only carries its creator for now," Yamiru explained.
"Oh." Annin hovered awkwardly. "Still impressive."
"A bit further along than King Kai Genki Dama, I'd say." Yamiru stroked the cloud, murmuring, "Flying Nimbus... Genki Dama..."
He sensed it—if he unraveled the secrets within these, a new horizon awaited.
The dragon flew off toward Mount Five Elements.
The gods vanished into the sky.
But before leaving, the man swore Yamiru had glanced at him—
Did he recognize me as Son Lin's disciple?
Or was I just imagining it? Maybe he never noticed me... never knew I tried climbing his tower over a dozen times... or that I've given up.
He didn't look back. The Korin Tower was long out of sight.
---
Author's Notes:
- This chapter adapts elements from Toriyama's oneshot "MAD MATIC".