Dragon's Gambit: Demon Unleashed Into the Multiverse!

Zaiko moved to sit on the edge of the bed, scanning the room for the arrow. 

Luckily for him, the arrow, the note, and the mirror—a cracked, low-quality piece of junk now that he looked closer—were beside him. 

It seemed people in this place were at least polite enough not to steal his stuff. How nice.

Grabbing the mirror, Zaiko inspected his reflection. His face was sharp, defined by a well-sculpted jawline that gave him a naturally intense appearance. 

His large eyes reminded him of the Saiyans he'd seen before, but with his own unique twist. 

If he had to compare, his features resembled Vegeta's, but less aggressive and more balanced. 

His only issue? The oversized ears that stuck out on either side of his head. They weren't a dealbreaker, but they were annoyingly noticeable.

The most striking details were his red eyes and the bold red tattoos: two lines streaked across each cheek, giving him a distinct, almost tribal look. He tilted his head, lifting the Red Ribbon cap to examine his hair. 

Beneath the hat was a neat crop of short, brown hair—practical and military-standard, though he couldn't help but feel it lacked personality.

Zaiko shifted his gaze downward, taking in his attire. He wore a fitted brown jacket over a simple white undershirt and brown military pants cinched with an orange belt. 

The outfit screamed, "Red Ribbon cannon fodder," but it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. 

Functional, practical—definitely better than some ridiculous armor he'd seen on other goons in the franchise. 

The fingerless gloves and rolled-up sleeves added a slight edge to the look as if to say, I'm not here to mess around... much.

Then it hit Zaiko—the most crucial attribute of any man, the true measure of destiny, the crown jewel: his cock. 

The thought sent a wave of both curiosity and dread through him. If this body had been "reassigned," so to speak, then he needed to confirm the essentials were in order.

Loosening his pants and pulling the waistband of his shorts down, Zaiko glanced below. 

Relief washed over him as he confirmed the little—no, big—guy was still there. And not just "there" but thriving.

He grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching in approval as he took in the sight. It was pornstar-level big—thick, veiny, and clearly built to leave an impression. 

Even in its flaccid state, it hung at a formidable length. Zaiko estimated it was around 8 inches soft and in the "cold." 

The sheer girth only added to the picture, making it clear this thing wasn't just for show—it was the kind that could inspire awe or fear, depending on the situation.

He couldn't help but smirk as he imagined its full potential. If this was its resting state, then fully erect? Gods above, it might genuinely become a weapon of mass destruction. 

Zaiko chuckled, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation.

"Well, if everything else in this life falls apart, at least I've got this as a backup plan," he muttered, pulling his pants back up.

As I finished pulling my pants back up, a sharp knock was at the door.

"Come in," I said, my voice deeper than I'd expected. 

It had a commanding, gravelly tone that I didn't think I'd earned yet. Thanks, Dragon Lord. For a canon fodder soldier, this guy sure was packing—in more ways than one.

The door creaked open, and in walked a young woman who immediately caught my attention. 

She had pale skin, striking blue eyes, and violet hair that framed her face perfectly. 

She wore blue protective goggles perched on her forehead, matching gloves, and red boots. 

Her sleeveless green flannel shirt bore the Red Ribbon logo. Paired with orange military pants held up by a red belt that hugged her figure well, her chest was medium-sized, probably a C cup. 

She had the no-nonsense look of someone who had long since lost her patience with the world.

"You better have a damn good reason for passing out during patrol," she snapped, her tone cutting through the room. 

"The only reason I haven't let you get yourself killed yet is because you're the only halfway decent man among this sea of banana-eating buffoons."

Without waiting for my response, she tugged the goggles from her forehead and tossed them onto the nearest chair before sitting down with a huff. 

She took out a cigarette from seemingly nowhere, placing it between her lips as she rummaged for a lighter.

The way she moved, the sharpness of her tone, and the casual disdain she radiated—it was all undeniably captivating. I wasn't sure whether to be impressed, amused, or slightly terrified.

"Well, good to see I'm appreciated," I muttered, leaning back slightly as I took her in. "Colonel Violet, right?"

She glanced up, raising an eyebrow at me as she lit the cigarette. "And you're still Zaiko, the guy I keep alive because the alternatives are somehow worse. Don't push it." 

She exhaled a plume of smoke, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Now, you gonna explain why you dropped like a sack of bricks, or are you trying to give the army more reasons to execute you?"

I smiled at Violet's crude response; her bluntness was strangely comforting. "Violet," I began, leaning forward slightly, "how much do you trust me?"

She didn't hesitate, taking a long drag from her cigarette before responding. "You're a thoroughly untrustworthy bastard who I'd trust with my life any day of the week," she said, blowing a puff of smoke in my direction. "Why are you asking?"

I chuckled softly, inhaling deeply as I braced myself; even when the smoke filled my lungs, nothing happened; was I a smoker? It doesn't matter anyway. 

The Dragon was probably right—I was the biggest piece of shit he could find in three minutes, and I wasn't about to let that reputation go to waste. 

If I was going to be in this insane world, I might as well lean into the chaos. "I had a vision," I said, calm but deliberate. "A god spoke to me and granted me the ability to change the world."

Good Dragon Lord above, how much was she going to hate me for this?

Her response surprised me. Instead of laughing or calling for the nearest straightjacket, Violet raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. 

She didn't say a word, but her expression was thoughtful. This was a world of cyborgs, dinosaurs, and martial artists who could throw cars like toys. 

Gods were probably just another footnote in the grand scheme of things.

Finally, after a moment of silence, she leaned forward again. "Prove it," she said.

She moved closer, her sharp blue eyes locking with mine. I could smell her cigarette's faint, bitter tang mingled with her surprisingly subtle perfume—a warm, spicy scent that caught me off guard. Her face was so close I could feel the warmth of her breath.

"Alright," I said, looking at her piercing blue gaze. I closed my eyes and concentrated, letting the strange power inside me flow. A second passed, then two. Nothing.

"It was just a bad joke," I heard Violet say, her voice tinged with irritation. "You really had me going there for a second. Well, it wasn't funny, but I'll give you this—it was entertaini—"

Her words began to fade, her voice dragging into silence like a record slowing to a halt. I opened my eyes, and the world had changed.

The fabric of reality seemed to tear apart, revealing a dark, starry expanse surrounding us. 

Time itself stood still. I could see Violet mid-sentence, leaning forward ever so slightly, her mouth still forming the next syllable. 

Guards were frozen below us, patrolling the base's hallways. Commander Red was in his office, petting his cat, his small frame stiff as if caught in a snapshot. I could see everything.

It was overwhelming, yet strangely intuitive. I instinctively moved. In the blink of an eye—or at least what would feel like one for Violet—I stood behind her. 

The world was moving slowly, and four seconds had passed in this slowed state before I let the power go. 

The sensation of flowing time washed over me again as I deactivated King Crimson's time skip.

"-Kinda boring after a while—What the hell!?" Violet screamed, her voice breaking into a startled shout as she twisted around, realizing I was no longer in front of her. 

She jumped forward, landing awkwardly on the bed, her hand instinctively reaching for the gun strapped to her belt.

"See?" I said calmly, raising my hands in mock surrender. "No tricks. Just proof."

Violet's sharp gaze darted between me and where I had been standing mere moments ago. She didn't immediately lower her hand, her instincts on high alert. "How the hell did you do that?" she hissed.

"Not just that," I continued, keeping my tone steady to hold her attention. "I can also see a little into the future. Sometimes, I even get glimpses of something... beyond." 

I was lying through my teeth about the "beyond" part—Epitaph could only predict within a ten-second window—but I needed something to solidify her trust. A hook to make her believe in what I was about to propose.

Violet's hand lingered near her gun, her fingers twitching slightly as she eyed me. "You're saying you can predict the future? And... step outside of time?"

"Exactly," I replied, lowering my hands. "And it's not just a party trick. Think about what we could do with this."

She narrowed her eyes, her sharp mind clearly working through the implications. 

After a tense pause, she finally let her hand drift away from the gun, leaning back slightly. "You better not be screwing with me, Zaiko," she said, her tone hard but lacking the venom it had earlier. "Because if you are, I'll kill you myself."

I smiled faintly. "Fair enough. But trust me on this one, Violet—you're going to want to hear my plan."

I cleared my throat when I was about to ask the big question, "Do you know a child under the name of Son Goku?"