The sun had just begun to dip below the rocky horizon, staining the wasteland red and gold. Cracked stone stretched as far as the eye could see, winds howling through jagged cliffs like ghosts whispering secrets to each other.
Delson stood silently atop a narrow plateau, his black coat fluttering against the wind. His violet eyes scanned the terrain, emotionless. He wasn't here by chance—the System had brought him.
[Target detected.]
The voice echoed in his mind. Mechanical. Calm. Always watching.
A streak of white energy cut across the sky, slamming into the ground nearby with a small explosion of dust. A lean figure stepped out of the smoke, brushing pebbles off his orange gi.
"Yo!" Yamcha called with a confident smirk.
"You must be the guy the old man warned me about. Creepy energy, strange powers, not from around here. That sound about right?"
Delson didn't answer. He wondered how he has known he was here. He just stared at Yamcha in awe.
Yamcha tilted his head. "You don't talk much, huh? That's fine. I like breaking the ice with my fists."
Without warning, he lunged forward, kicking off the ground and shooting toward Delson like a bullet. The plateau cracked beneath his feet from the force.
Delson's eyes flicked.
"Engaging combat mode," the System whispered.
As Yamcha's fist swung forward, Delson sidestepped, leaving only a trail of shadow. Yamcha's strike met nothing but wind.
"What the—"
From behind, Delson raised his palm.
"Dark Pulse."
A concussive wave of black energy exploded outward, slamming into Yamcha's back and hurling him into the cliff wall below. Rocks shattered. Dust clouded the air.
Yamcha staggered out, coughing, bruised but alive. He grinned despite the pain.
"All right, so you're fast. Not bad."
Delson floated down slowly, landing silently on the ground below. His shadow stretched unnaturally far behind him, as if alive.
"State your purpose," he said flatly.
Yamcha wiped a smear of blood from his chin. "Just here to see what you're made of, man. Nothing personal. But you're not gonna get far in this world if you can't handle a Z-Fighter."
He raised his arms and powered up. A swirling blue-white aura ignited around him. "Let's turn this up a notch."
Yamcha spread his fingers wide.
"Spirit Ball!"
A golden orb burst into the sky, zig-zagging through the air as he controlled its path with his fingers. It homed in on Delson, weaving like a guided missile.
Delson didn't move.
"System," he whispered. "Shadow Step: Phase One."
In an instant, his form melted into the ground like black liquid. The Spirit Ball passed through his after-image harmlessly.
Yamcha's eyes widened. "Where the hell—"
Behind him.
"Right here."
Delson reappeared and thrust his arm forward. A spear of writhing void formed in his palm.
"Dark Lance."
The weapon slammed into Yamcha's ribs, sending him hurtling into a nearby boulder. It exploded on impact.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then Yamcha's voice groaned from the rubble, "Okay... okay… you hit hard."
Delson approached slowly, shadows trailing behind each step like a veil of smoke.
"Warning," the System said in his mind. "Opponent power increasing. Ki output stabilizing. Initiate Shadow State?"
Delson paused, considering. "No. Let him push further."
As if hearing him, Yamcha rose to his feet, aura flaring again, brighter than before.
He clenched his fists, eyes narrowing. "You're not the only one with a second wind."
Yamcha vanished with a boom of speed, reappearing above Delson with a flurry of kicks and punches. For the first time, Delson moved defensively, blocking each strike with precision but no longer untouched.
Yamcha grinned mid-fight. "What's the matter? Can't read me anymore?"
He slammed a punch into Delson's chest, sending him skidding backward. Yamcha pressed the attack—momentum building.
But Delson's eyes glowed.
"System: Unlock Shadow King Form."
Time seemed to still.
Darkness bled from every pore in Delson's body. The air turned icy. His shadow stretched out in every direction, consuming the ground. Black flames circled his head like a twisted halo.
Yamcha stepped back. "Okay, what is that?"
Delson's voice was layered now—his own, mixed with something ancient, something hollow.
"This is what happens," he said, "when darkness stops pretending to be weak."
He raised both arms.
Chains erupted from the ground, made of pure shadow, wrapping around Yamcha's legs and dragging him to his knees.
"Shadow Snare."
Yamcha struggled, muscles straining. "Hnnn—what kind of sick energy is this?!"
Delson summoned something immense behind him—a massive serpent-like beast with wings of ash and fangs of obsidian, coiled from the shadow itself.
Its eyes opened.
Yamcha's heart sank. "Oh hell no."
Delson whispered:
"Shadow Dragon... Oblivion Bite."
The dragon roared as it lunged. In a flash of black light, it struck Yamcha head-on. The explosion echoed for miles. Smoke curled into the darkening sky. Rocks were vaporized.
When the light faded, Yamcha lay in the center of a crater, unconscious but breathing. His gi was scorched, his hair a mess, but he was alive.
Delson stood over him, his aura fading, the Shadow King Form retracting like mist returning to the ocean.
The System pinged.
"Victory achieved. Threat neutralized."
Delson looked down at Yamcha.
"…Impressive," he muttered.
He turned, walking away as the wind picked up again.
Far behind him, Yamcha stirred and coughed.
"Next time," he muttered, eyes half-lidded, "I'm bringing Tien... and pizza…"