One casual punch sends a finalist beyond the horizon—yet the real shock is still to come.
Morning sunlight blazed across the smooth tournament stage, reflecting sharply enough to sting the eyes. The stands were already overflowing, drowned beneath waves of excited shouting. The air itself felt charged, thick with anticipation.
After two days of fierce battles, the final four had finally been decided.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Martial artists from around the world! Thank you for your patience!"
The announcer's voice thundered through the loudspeakers.
"The Tenkaichi Budokai semifinals—begin now!!"
"The first match! Entering the arena first is the fighter who overwhelmed his opponents with absolute dominance during the preliminaries—Vitelli!!!"
Polite applause mixed with curious murmurs as Vitelli stepped calmly onto the stage. He wore the same black battle suit as always, his expression relaxed, as if he had merely come out for morning exercise.
He stopped at the center of the ring and quietly looked toward the entrance.
"And his opponent! A master of supreme boxing technique and battle experience, who fought his way into the top four—'Eight-Hand Fist' King Chappa!!!"
"King Chappa! King Chappa! King Chappa!"
The crowd erupted into cheers as the muscular fighter strode onto the stage, waving confidently to his supporters. His powerful frame rippled with muscle as he rolled his shoulders and arms, deliberately showing off his physique.
He assumed the opening stance of the Eight-Hand Fist. A flurry of overlapping fist shadows burst before him, drawing another round of applause from the audience.
Standing across from Vitelli, he snorted in disdain at the young man's half-awake posture.
"Hmph! Kid! Don't think winning a few matches with tricks I've never seen makes you impressive! You're unlucky to run into me! Whatever nonsense you used before is worthless against the true secrets of the Eight-Hand Fist!"
His chin lifted arrogantly, victory already written across his face.
Vitelli didn't even bother raising his eyelids. He had no interest in meaningless pre-match trash talk. Without changing posture, he simply raised his right hand, fingers loosely curling into a fist.
The referee's voice rang out.
"Begin!"
The instant the final syllable left his mouth—
Vitelli moved.
No buildup. No shout. No visible exertion.
He simply swung his fist forward, casually—like brushing away a fly.
BOOM—!!!
A dull explosion rang out, so heavy it made hearts skip a beat. The air itself seemed to shatter. A visible white shockwave erupted from the path of his fist.
King Chappa's arrogant expression froze.
In the next instant, terror replaced it completely.
He hadn't even seen the punch.
All he felt was an overwhelming force—like a collapsing mountain—slamming into his chest.
"GAAAH—!!!"
His scream warped as his massive body shot backward like a cannon shell, tearing through the air at terrifying speed. He blasted off the stage and straight into the sky, trailing a white streak behind him.
Within seconds, both the scream and the figure vanished beyond the distant horizon.
Only a fading trail of cloud remained.
Silence fell.
The cheering fans froze mid-expression, mouths still open. Tens of thousands of spectators sat motionless. The arena became so quiet that the sound of wind and distant waves could be heard clearly.
"Wow! A shooting star!" Krillin suddenly shouted, clasping his hands together and closing his eyes. "I wish I'd get rich overnight!"
Goku immediately copied him. "I wish I could eat meat every day…"
The absurd scene of the two kids making wishes beside the ring felt surreal against the stunned silence.
The referee's hand trembled as he lifted the microphone.
"The… the winner… is… Vitelli!"
His voice sounded dry, as if forced out with great effort.
There was no applause this time.
Only countless stunned gazes fixed on the black-haired young man who slowly lowered his fist, as though he had done nothing remarkable.
One punch.
Just one.
A semifinalist had been sent flying beyond the horizon like trash.
This wasn't martial arts anymore. It was something beyond comprehension.
—
That afternoon, the semifinal brackets were announced.
First match: Vitelli vs. Jackie Chun.
Second match: Son Goku vs. Krillin.
As the matches paused for lunch, Vitelli prepared to leave with Bulma when she gently tugged his sleeve, pointing toward Goku and Krillin staring longingly at nearby food stalls.
"Let's take them with us," she said softly. "Krillin told me they didn't bring much money. And the tournament meals… probably aren't enough for Goku."
Vitelli glanced at the two boys—especially Krillin, who tried to look composed while his stomach growled loudly. Thinking of the battles they might someday fight together, he shrugged.
"Fine."
"Wow! Thanks, Bulma! Vitelli!" Goku cheered, dragging the embarrassed Krillin along.
Bulma chose a luxury seafood restaurant.
What followed was nothing short of disaster.
Vitelli and Goku devoured food like efficient machines. Lobsters, king crabs, oysters, mountains of sushi and sashimi vanished at an alarming speed. Plates emptied faster than the kitchen could replace them.
Krillin, having learned his lesson, secured a large portion early and hid in a corner, eating quietly while watching the two monsters in awe.
The restaurant manager's expression shifted between despair and forced politeness.
When Vitelli finally set down the last crab shell, satisfied, Goku leaned back beside him, rubbing his round stomach happily.
Bulma paid the bill without blinking. The endless string of numbers nearly made Krillin faint.
Being rich really was amazing.
—
The semifinals resumed that afternoon.
The atmosphere around the main stage grew heavier with anticipation. Only two victories remained before the champion would be decided.
First semifinal: Son Goku vs. Krillin.
The two small fighters clashed fiercely, darting across the stage with incredible speed. Their movements were sharp, fluid, filled with the solid foundation Master Roshi had drilled into them over the past year.
The audience watched in awe, cheering loudly for both.
Hidden among the crowd, Master Roshi—disguised as Jackie Chun—watched with pride.
Then Goku suddenly leapt backward, hands drawing to his waist.
A familiar stance.
Roshi's eyes widened behind his sunglasses.
"That's…! The Kamehameha?! Impossible! I never taught them… could it be from the Fire Mountain…?!"
Blue light gathered between Goku's palms, swelling rapidly with energy.
Krillin's face turned pale. He recognized the move instantly. Dodging was impossible. Blocking was unthinkable.
"Kaa… meee…"
The energy surged.
"Haa—!!!"
A brilliant blue beam roared across the arena, slamming directly into Krillin. He cried out once before being blasted off the stage, crashing heavily into the ground outside and losing consciousness.
The referee hesitated before raising his hand.
"Out of bounds! The winner is—Son Goku!!!"
The audience erupted in thunderous applause.
—
After a short break, the announcer's excited voice rang out again.
"Next! The second semifinal! The mysterious and powerful Vitelli versus the experienced and unpredictable Jackie Chun!!"
Vitelli and Master Roshi stepped onto the stage together.
Roshi had removed his sunglasses now. His aged face was calm, but his eyes were razor sharp. The pressure coming from the young man before him exceeded even what he remembered facing Demon King Piccolo.
"Begin!"
This time, Vitelli did not act casually. Facing a true martial arts master, he showed basic respect.
He raised a simple fighting stance.
"Come at me, Mr. Chun."
At the same time, he suppressed his ki to roughly match Roshi's level. His physical strength and reaction speed, however, could not be lowered.
Roshi moved instantly.
He vanished from sight, reappearing at Vitelli's flank with a devastating kick aimed at his ribs.
In Vitelli's eyes, it was slow.
His body shifted slightly. The attack missed by inches.
Roshi pressed forward, unleashing a storm of punches and kicks, each filled with decades of martial mastery. The arena filled with afterimages and whistling wind.
But no matter what he did, Vitelli evaded effortlessly—barely moving, dodging with minimal motion as if he already knew where every attack would land.
He didn't even leave his spot.
It looked less like a fight and more like a dance.
Occasional strikes that landed did nothing. His body didn't even sway.
Vitelli sighed inwardly.
He had hoped to experience a true martial arts battle by suppressing his power. But the gap was simply too large. Even his instincts alone made defeat impossible for his opponent.
This wasn't a fight.
It was one-sided.
Roshi's shock deepened with every exchange. Sweat soaked his back. He had already used everything he knew, yet the young man before him felt like an immovable mountain.
Just how strong was he?
Roshi suddenly leapt back, eyes hardening with resolve. He tore off his outer robe as electricity began crackling around his body.
"Kid! Be careful with this one!"
Energy surged violently around him.
"Thunder Shock Surprise!!!"
A massive web of crackling blue lightning exploded forward, swallowing the arena in blinding light.
Bulma gasped. "Vitelli!"
On the stage, Vitelli sighed again.
Then he lifted his hand and casually waved.
Crack—!
The enormous electric net shattered instantly, collapsing like glass. The energy scattered harmlessly into the air and vanished.
Silence returned.
Roshi stood frozen, arms extended, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
Vitelli looked at him calmly.
"I'll… get a little serious," he said quietly. "Be careful. Don't die."
His figure vanished.
Roshi's vision blurred. A crushing aura of death engulfed him. Time seemed to slow.
Memories flooded his mind—his childhood training, Master Mutaito, Demon King Piccolo, Korin Tower, the first Kamehameha, his students, his long life flashing past in an instant.
So this was death.
BOOM—!!!
The explosion snapped him back to reality.
Vitelli's fist stopped less than an inch from his nose.
The wind from the punch roared upward, tearing through the sky itself. Clouds split apart, leaving a massive vacuum corridor stretching across the heavens. Sunlight poured through the gap like a divine pillar.
The entire arena erupted in screams of disbelief.
Roshi stood frozen, drenched in cold sweat. He understood clearly—if that punch had landed, he would have died.
Vitelli slowly withdrew his fist, disappointment flickering across his expression. The fight had already lost its meaning.
He turned toward the referee.
"I forfeit."
"…What?!" Bulma, Goku, Krillin, Roshi, the announcer—everyone froze in shock.
"You… you're forfeiting?!" the announcer stammered. "But you have absolute advantage!"
Vitelli didn't answer.
His gaze moved past the crowd and settled on Goku below the stage. Something complicated flickered in his eyes.
"Do your best, Goku," he said quietly. "You need to get stronger. Quickly."
Then he turned away, stepping down from the ring and taking Bulma's hand. She didn't ask why. She simply smiled and held his hand tightly.
"Let's go."
Vitelli nodded.
Ignoring the stunned arena, ignoring the countless confused and awestruck gazes, the two of them walked calmly toward the quiet shoreline beyond the island.
Sunlight stretched their shadows long behind them.
Only after they left did the announcer's voice finally recover.
"Due to Vitelli's forfeit, the winner of this semifinal is Jackie Chun! Next… the final match of the Tenkaichi Budokai will begin! Son Goku versus Jackie Chun! The strongest under heaven will soon be decided!!!"
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