The soft knock at the main chamber doors came just as Rimuru settled back into his seat, the lingering tension from Milim's arrival easing into comfortable conversation. Before anyone could respond, the doors swung open with practiced grace.
Shion entered first, her posture proud and her purple eyes gleaming with fierce confidence. She wore her usual secretary attire, though it had been subtly adjusted for the occasion—crisp, elegant, and somehow still radiating that unmistakable aura of a warrior who could cleave mountains in half. Flanking her were several of Tempest's most skilled chefs, each pushing ornate serving carts laden with dishes that smelled heavenly. The head chef, an older hobgoblin with a tall white hat, led the procession with quiet dignity, his team moving in perfect synchronization.
"Lord Rimuru! I have prepared a special feast worthy of our exalted guests!" Shion announced, her voice booming with enthusiasm as she directed the chefs toward the long central table. "The head chef has created refined delicacies from across the federation—delicate herb-crusted wyvern fillets, crystal-clear consommé infused with spirit herbs, and a selection of fresh-baked breads still warm from the ovens. And I… have prepared my own signature dishes, set aside especially for those with truly divine palates!"
The chefs efficiently arranged the head chef's elegant spread across one half of the table: beautifully plated dishes that looked like works of art—glistening sauces, perfectly seared proteins, vibrant garnishes, and aromatic steam rising in gentle curls. Bowls of fragrant rice, grilled vegetables glistening with butter, and a towering dessert platter of layered cakes and fruit tarts completed the professional presentation.
A short distance away, on a separate smaller table that Shion had clearly insisted upon, the chefs placed her personal offerings with careful, almost hesitant movements. Her dishes looked… unique. The "signature" platter featured what appeared to be a massive, slightly charred slab of meat swimming in a thick, ominous black sauce that bubbled faintly on its own. Beside it sat a bowl of what might have been soup, its surface swirling with unidentifiable chunks and emitting a faint, otherworldly glow. A separate plate held something that resembled cookies—except they were uneven, jagged, and one of them was still faintly smoking. The entire arrangement gave off an intense, almost aggressive aroma that somehow managed to be both mouth-watering and faintly alarming.
Beerus's golden eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned forward, ears twitching. Wanda tilted her head, her scarlet energy faintly flickering around her fingers as if on instinct. Zairis raised an eyebrow, his usual calm expression cracking into visible uncertainty. Even Whis, ever the picture of composed elegance, allowed a faint line of hesitation to crease his brow as he studied Shion's separate table with polite but unmistakable wariness.
Rimuru, noticing the reactions immediately, fought down a grin.
Beerus pointed one clawed finger toward the smoking, bubbling creations. "Oi, Rimuru. Be honest with me. Are you trying to figure out which poisons actually work on us? Because that… thing over there looks like it could melt the concept of flavor itself."
Wanda gave a small, uncertain laugh, while Zairis subtly shifted his stance as if ready to erect a barrier at a moment's notice. Whis simply observed with a faint, intrigued smile, though his staff remained loosely gripped.
Rimuru chuckled warmly, leaning forward to spear a piece of Shion's charred meat with a fork. He brought it to his mouth without hesitation and took a generous bite. The moment the food touched his tongue, his eyes fluttered half-closed in genuine bliss.
"Mmm… perfect as always, Shion," he said, chewing with clear satisfaction before swallowing. "No poisons, Beerus. I promise. Shion has a unique skill called [Chef]. It doesn't just make food—it elevates it to something transcendent. The appearance might look a little… intense, but the taste? It's genuinely delicious, even to divine beings like you. The skill bypasses all the usual limitations. Trust me, I've tested it plenty of times. It's one of the reasons I keep her cooking for special occasions."
Shion beamed at the praise, clasping her hands together with sparkling eyes. "Lord Rimuru! Hearing you say that fills me with joy! Please, everyone, don't be shy. My dishes are made with all my heart—and a little extra love from my skill. They may not look like the head chef's elegant plates, but I guarantee they will surprise you in the best way!"
Beerus stared at the bubbling black sauce for another long moment, one ear flicking skeptically. Wanda exchanged a quick glance with him, her lips twitching in reluctant amusement. Zairis remained visibly cautious, while Whis simply tilted his head, curiosity now winning over hesitation.
Rimuru took another bite, clearly enjoying himself. "Go on. Try some. I wouldn't steer you wrong on food, especially with a tournament coming up. You'll need your strength."
Milim's eyes were already locked onto Shion's creations with open fascination, while Valentine watched the entire scene with quiet, amused patience.
The chamber fell into a brief, expectant hush as all eyes turned toward Shion's separate table. The head chef's elegant dishes sat untouched for the moment; the real curiosity—and hesitation—centered on the bubbling, slightly ominous creations that somehow still smelled irresistibly good.
Whis, ever the picture of graceful curiosity, was the first to move. With a polite smile and a small tilt of his head, he extended his staff just enough to levitate a generous portion of Shion's charred meat and glowing soup onto a plate. He brought a forkful to his lips, chewed once, and then—
"OHHHHH~!"
Whis's eyes snapped wide open. He dramatically clasped both cheeks with his free hand, his usually serene face twisting into pure, exaggerated bliss. "This is absolutely delightful! The flavors explode across the palate like a supernova of taste! The appearance may leave something to be desired, but once you take a bite… it leaves you desperately wanting more!"
Before anyone could react, Whis's angelic speed kicked in. In one fluid, comically exaggerated motion, he scooped nearly half the contents of Shion's table onto an instantly materialized larger platter—plates, bowls, and all—pulling it protectively toward himself like a dragon hoarding treasure.
Beerus's jaw dropped. Wanda's scarlet eyes blinked in stunned silence. Zairis froze mid-gesture, his usual composure cracking into open disbelief.
"Whis?!" Beerus barked, ears shooting straight up in pure annoyance. He lunged forward, paws shoving against the angel's shoulder as he tried to yank a still-smoking plate away. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
Whis calmly held onto his hoard with surprising strength, leaning away while keeping his prize just out of reach. "Now, now, Lord Beerus. The early bird gets the worm~ If you want more, you can graciously ask Lady Shion to prepare another batch just for you."
"Bullshit!" Beerus roared, still pushing and tugging in a ridiculous tug-of-war over the plate. "I'm the God of Destruction! You're supposed to be my attendant! Hand it over!"
The entire scene unfolded with cartoonish energy—two cosmic beings bickering like children over cafeteria food. Rimuru sweat-dropped hard, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. Diablo's ever-present smile twitched. Benimaru pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something about "undignified." Even Shion, standing proudly beside her creation, felt a massive sweat drop slide down her temple… before her face suddenly lit up with overwhelming joy, eyes sparkling like stars.
In the shadows near the doorway, Souei shook his head slowly, arms crossed. He said nothing, but the faint upward twitch at the corner of his mouth showed silent agreement—Shion's food really was that good, no matter how much it resembled something the Death Guard would proudly serve.
Milim's golden eyes went wide with pure shock, her mouth forming a perfect "O" before she burst into loud, delighted laughter, pointing excitedly. "Hahaha! They're fighting over food like kids! This is amazing!"
Valentine, however, watched with a deeper, quieter surprise. Her ancient sky-blue eyes narrowed slightly, a faint crease forming between her brows. Beings as old as Beerus and Whis—entities who had existed for uncountable years—still displayed such raw, unfiltered emotion over something as simple as a meal. She had lived so long that those kinds of open, childish reactions had long since faded from her own repertoire. The sight stirred something unexpected in her.
Beerus finally managed to snatch one plate free, glaring daggers at Whis before taking a huge, defiant bite. His expression shifted instantly. The anger melted away into the same exaggerated bliss Whis had shown moments earlier. "Mmmph—! This really is incredible!" He swallowed, then pointed the fork dramatically at Shion. "In fact, I'd destroy entire worlds that tried to keep me away from food this good!"
He leaned back, still chewing with obvious satisfaction, then grinned sharply at the oni secretary. "Hey, you! Shion, was it? How about you come work for me instead? I could use a chef who can actually satisfy a God of Destruction. Rimuru can find someone else to handle his paperwork."
Rimuru's head snapped toward Beerus, eyes narrowing in comical suspicion. In a blur of motion, he instantly appeared right in front of Shion, arms spread protectively like a mother hen shielding her chick. "She isn't going anywhere! Shion stays with me!"
Shion clasped her hands together, cheeks flushing with pure honor and happiness. "I am deeply honored by the offer, Lord Beerus! But Lord Rimuru is my one and only master. I could never leave his side!"
Valentine tilted her head slightly, genuine curiosity flickering behind those ancient sky-blue eyes. "Forgive me if this seems forward, Beerus… but I must admit, I'm surprised. Beings who have existed as long as you and your attendant still display such unrestrained emotion. I would have thought such reactions faded with the eons."
Beerus glanced at her, catching the lack of arrogance in her tone. He snorted, not offended in the slightest, and took another massive bite before answering. "Hmph. Yeah, I used to be like that a couple billion years ago. Got boring, though. When you're already at the very top of existence, what more do you have to prove? Any mortal dumb enough to look down on you gets their planet turned to dust anyway. So why bother acting all dignified? Dignity's just another thing you outgrow eventually."
Testarossa, standing gracefully nearby, simply shook her head in quiet incredulity, though a small, understanding smile tugged at her lips. Beerus's blunt logic made perfect sense to her—why should a being at the absolute pinnacle of existence care what any mortal thought? Mortals' opinions were irrelevant when you held the power to erase planets on a whim.
Valentine, still processing the chaotic scene, found herself quietly reflecting on Beerus's words. Maybe… she should allow herself a bit more fun with Milim from time to time. After all, who in this world—or any other—could truly stand in her way? The number of beings capable of challenging her could be counted on one hand, and even then, it would likely end in nothing more than a stalemate. Perhaps a little childish excitement wasn't such a bad thing after eons of perfect composure.
The light-hearted chaos hung in the air, laughter and sweat drops mixing freely as the divine visitors continued devouring Shion's chaotic-but-divine cooking with renewed enthusiasm. Even the head chef's elegant dishes were finally being sampled, though they now played second fiddle to the oni's surprisingly legendary creations he didn't take offense, after all he didn't have a [Skill] it was years of trial and error, and it came very close to the high Oni's dishes in taste, which was something to be extremely proud of.
The morning passed by fairly fast as the private meeting came to a halt for the day as Beerus and Wanda made their way over to their first class suites with the softest pillows on the planet and the biggest bed with a fantastic view over Tempest, the temperature perfectly controlled with a servant dropping by and politely calling out if there is anything the great destroyer gods would like.
The sun hung high over the bustling streets of Tempest, casting a warm golden glow across the vibrant capital. Food stalls lined the main thoroughfare, each one offering unique delicacies from every corner of the federation—steaming skewers of grilled monster meat, colorful fruit tarts infused with magic herbs, and bubbling pots of spicy stew that filled the air with mouthwatering aromas. Citizens and visitors alike moved about with lively energy, the announcement for the Tournament Festival having been revealed in the coming week, excitement for the already palpable.
Goku, Vegeta, Gobta, and Gabiru and the two stooges wandered through the crowded streets, sampling whatever caught their attention. Goku was happily munching on a massive skewer of wyvern meat, sauce dripping down his chin, while Vegeta picked at a more refined grilled vegetable dish with a slightly reluctant expression, though he couldn't hide the faint approval in his eyes. Gobta bounced along beside them on his wolf mount, eyes wide with excitement, while Gabiru struck dramatic poses every time someone recognized him as one of Tempest's leaders.
Gobta tilted his head, chewing on a piece of candied fruit. "Hey, Goku! Vegeta! Why aren't you guys with the other esteemed guests back at Lord Rimuru's chamber? Everyone important is there talking about the big tournament and stuff. Aren't you supposed to be, y'know… super VIPs?"
Goku swallowed his bite with a carefree laugh, scratching the back of his head. "Haha, nah. Me and Vegeta kinda hate those long meetings. Sitting still for hours just talking? Boring! We'd rather be out training or eating good food like this. Why waste time when there's so much fun stuff to do?"
Vegeta snorted, crossing his arms. "Speak for yourself, Kakarot. Though I'll admit… this city's food isn't half bad."
Gobta's eyes sparkled with admiration despite his own maturity achieved over the years. His idols stood before him in the flesh. "Wow, that makes sense! You two are always so strong and energetic. Hey, Goku… could you teach me how to use that Ki stuff? The way you guys fly around and shoot energy beams looks so cool! I wanna learn!"
Goku blinked in surprise, then broke into a wide, enthusiastic grin. He flashed a thumbs-up. "Sure, why not! We don't have anything else to do right now anyway. It'll be fun!"
Gabiru puffed out his chest dramatically. "If the Orangeman is teaching, then I, Gabiru, shall observe and master it even faster!"
As the group continued their stroll, passing by a small café terrace shaded by flowering vines, a cluster of Tempest's resident hikikomori sat huddled around a table cluttered with manga volumes, imported light novels, and half-finished drinks. Pale-skinned goblinoids and a couple of humans, all bearing the telltale signs of those who preferred the cozy glow of lamplight over sunlight, squinted toward the passing figures.
One young adult goblin, clutching a worn volume of Dragon Ball Z to his chest, nudged his companion with an elbow. "...Hey. Am I seeing things, or do those two look exactly like Goku and Vegeta?"
His friend, a lanky human with messy hair barely visible beneath a hood, adjusted his glasses and squinted harder. "No way. Probably just some really dedicated cosplayers passing through for the tournament. I mean, look around—half the city's full of weird strong people right now. It's a coincidence."
"But the hair…" the goblin insisted, leaning forward. "That's exactly Goku's hair. And the other one's got that ridiculous widow's peak and everything."
"Coincidence," the human repeated flatly, though his eyes lingered a moment longer. "The world is big. Parallel evolution or whatever."
The group returned to their manga discussion, though a few kept glancing toward the passing Saiyans with lingering curiosity. Their goblin ears—slightly pointed, slightly larger than a human's—picked up fragments of the conversation drifting back on the breeze.
"...teach me how to use that Ki stuff…"
"…Orangeman…"
Then, clear as a bell, Gobta's cheerful voice carried over: "Hehe, yeah! That's our Goku and Vegeta for you!"
Gabiru's boisterous laugh followed. "Indeed! Such spirited rivalry between Goku and Vegeta is truly the mark of great warriors!"
"…Goku and Vegeta," the goblin breathed. "They just said Goku and Vegeta. They called them Goku and Vegeta."
The café table went dead silent.
The goblin with the manga volume slowly lowered it, eyes wide. The human's hood fell back as he straightened abruptly. Every set of enhanced goblin ears at that table had caught the names with crystal clarity.
"It's them," the human whispered, his skepticism evaporating. "Holy crap, it's actually them."
The goblin clutched his worn volume of Dragon Ball Z like a sacred text, eyes narrowing with mischievous determination. He leaned toward his companions, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Okay. One test. Just to be absolutely sure."
He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted toward the retreating figures with all his might.
"HEY! THE PRINCE OF ALL SAIYANS!"
Nothing happened. Goku kept walking, still chatting animatedly with Gobta. Vegeta's stride didn't falter.
The goblin's shoulders sagged. The human beside him sighed. "...See? Told you it was just—"
"ARE YOU STILL OBSESSED WITH SURPASSING KAKAROT?! THE FIRST SUPER SAIYAN OF YOUR GENERATION?!"
Vegeta's stride halted mid-step.
His entire body stiffened as if someone had driven an iron rod through his spine. Slowly—agonizingly slowly—he turned his head, revealing a face already twisted into pure, vein-throbbing irritation. His eye twitched.
"What did you just say to me, you insolent little—?!"
The hikikomori collectively gasped. The goblin who had shouted nearly dropped his manga volume, eyes going wider than dinner plates.
"Holy crap," the human breathed. "It's actually him."
"GO GO GO!"
The goblins didn't hesitate. With the agility of their race, they vaulted clean over the terrace railing in unison—three pale-skinned figures soaring through the air and landing in crouched positions on the street below with practiced ease. The humans, lacking such physical prowess, scrambled in opposite directions: one practically flew down the nearby staircase taking steps three at a time, while the other swung over the railing and climbed down the decorative lattice with surprising urgency.
Within seconds, the entire group had converged on the street, eyes sparkling with pure, unfiltered fandom as they surrounded the still-fuming Saiyan prince and his grinning rival.
"He really is just like in the manga!" the lead goblin squealed, thrusting his volume forward. "The tsundere prideful attitude is absolutely perfect! It's really him!"
Gobta, catching the playful energy, jogged back a step and gave the group a cheerful high-five through the railing. "Hehe, yeah! That's our Vegeta! Grumpy as ever!"
Goku burst into loud, genuine laughter, nearly doubling over as he clutched his skewer. "Hahaha! See, Vegeta? Even here they know you!"
Vegeta grumbled in deep annoyance, arms still crossed tightly as he turned away from the fans. But after a long, seething pause, he relented with a sharp huff. "Tch. Kakarot and I only push each other to become stronger. The strongest title goes back and forth between us. I'm not as caught up in my own pride as I used to be… but damn it, that competitive fire is the most important part of being a Saiyan."
Goku wiped a tear from his eye, still grinning broadly as he gave Vegeta a solid thumbs-up. "Yeah! And Vegeta was actually the winner of our last fight on Beerus's planet—our current master's world. He really had me on the ropes that time!"
Vegeta's scowl softened just a fraction, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself.
Goku chuckled warmly, slinging an arm around Vegeta's shoulders despite the prince's immediate attempt to shrug him off. "Haha, see? Told ya they'd get it eventually! You're way more popular than you think, Vegeta."
Vegeta finally managed to shove the arm away, crossing his own with a sharp tch. "Don't get used to it. I'm not here to sign autographs for every wide-eyed weakling who's read a comic book."
Gobta, still munching happily on his candied fruit, waved at the cluster of fans with a cheerful grin. "Bye-bye! Thanks for being so nice!"
Gabiru struck one final pose, chest puffed out and chin held high. "Fear not, loyal admirers! The great Gabiru shall return someday, and you may bask in my glory once more!"
With that, the four of them turned toward the city gates. Gobta and Gabiru fell into step beside the two Saiyans, the afternoon sun stretching their shadows long across the cobblestone path. The conversation between Goku and Vegeta picked up again in low, easy tones—something about training spots outside the walls and whether this world's gravity was worth pushing against.
Behind them, the small crowd of fans remained rooted in place.
The lead goblin clutched his battered Dragon Ball Z volume tighter against his chest. His ears drooped. One of the human hikikomori girls bit her lip, her hands clasped together as if she could physically hold onto the moment a little longer. The others just stood there, watching the backs of their heroes grow smaller, their earlier excitement fading into a quiet, familiar ache. This was it. The once-in-a-lifetime encounter was over. No one said a word. No one wanted to be the one to break the spell by calling out, to seem greedy or desperate when they had already been given so much just by meeting them.
But the sadness was written plain on every face.
Goku paused mid-step.
He glanced back over his shoulder, brow furrowing slightly. It wasn't a dramatic thing—no one had cried out or begged him to stay. It was just the way they stood there, shoulders slumped, eyes watching like they were trying to memorize the exact shape of this goodbye. He'd seen that look before. Back on Earth, after tournaments, after world-ending threats were stopped, when he'd wave and fly off and leave people standing in the dust, still wanting just a little more time.
His expression softened.
Vegeta noticed the pause first, glancing sideways with an irritated grunt. "What now, Kakarot? We're leaving."
Goku ignored him, turning fully around. He rubbed the back of his head, a small, almost sheepish laugh escaping him.
"Hey... you guys look pretty sad just standing there like that."
The fans jolted, eyes going wide. The lead goblin's ears perked up. The girl who'd been biting her lip blinked rapidly, as if caught doing something she shouldn't.
Goku's grin returned, warm and easy. "Tell you what—if you really want to, you can come with us. I was gonna try teaching Gobta here how to sense and use his Ki anyway." He jerked a thumb toward the goblin, who immediately puffed up with pride. "You're all welcome to tag along and see if you've got any natural talent for it too."
The silence that followed was thick with disbelief.
Goku's tone turned just a notch more serious, though his smile never faded. "But I gotta warn you... it's nowhere near as quick and easy as the stories make it look. Takes years of hard discipline and training just to get the basics right. Most people quit before they even scratch the surface. I had to figure most of it out the hard way myself."
He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Still... I figure it might be a bit easier teaching actual fighters like you Tempest folks than it was teaching Power Girl. She was tough in her own way, but you all seem pretty spirited!"
Vegeta snorted, finally turning to face the group as well. His arms remained crossed, but his gaze swept over the stunned fans with something almost approaching interest. "Hmph. Don't get your hopes up too high, earthlings—or whatever you lot are. Real training isn't a spectator sport. But if you've got even a spark of warrior's pride buried in there somewhere..." He allowed the faintest hint of a smirk. "Maybe you won't embarrass yourselves completely."
For a moment, no one moved. Then the lead goblin let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh, nearly dropping his manga volume again. The humans behind him erupted into hushed, frantic whispers—"Did that really just happen?"
"He noticed us!"
"We get to go with them!"
Gobta clapped his hands together excitedly. "Oh, oh oh! This is gonna be so much fun! More training buddies!"
Gabiru threw his head back and laughed grandly, striking yet another dramatic pose. "Excellent! The more witnesses to my inevitable mastery, the better! Behold, and be inspired!" His two followers clapped fervently.
Goku waved them forward with an easy gesture. "Come on, then! Let's find a good open spot outside the city. No time like the present to get started... even if it's just the very, very beginning."
The fans practically tripped over themselves scrambling to catch up, their earlier sadness evaporating into giddy, barely contained joy. The group swelled as they moved toward the gates, a ragtag parade of Saiyans, goblins, lizardmen, humans, and one very starstruck goblin clutching a manga like it was the most precious thing in any universe.
Vegeta shook his head, falling into step beside Goku once more. "You're soft, Kakarot."
Goku just grinned, eyes forward and bright. "Maybe. But look at 'em now. Way better than leaving 'em standing there all droopy, right?"
Vegeta said nothing. But the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth said plenty.
The afternoon sun glowed warm overhead, and the real training was about to begin—not just for two Saiyans pushing each other to new heights, but for anyone brave enough to reach for that same fire.