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Beneath storm-riddled skies, a lone figure stood silhouetted against the crackling horizon—Kenshiro, the last scion of the Dragon’s Breath clan. His armor, forged from celestial ore, shimmered with latent energy, each groove etched by ancient smiths to channel the power of the seven Dragon Balls embedded across his chestplate. These orbs, pulsating like captured stars, had been scattered across realms until Goku’s relentless pursuit united them. Now, their fused radiance seeped into Kenshiro’s veins, merging mortal resolve with the primal fury of Shenron itself. The earth quaked as demonic legions poured from the Abyss of Mára, their jagged claws tearing reality itself. Goku’s voice roared above the chaos, a thunderclap of defiance—*“Light the skies!”*—as Kenshiro slammed his fist into the ground. Dragonfire erupted in a helix, incinerating the horde, while Goku’s Kamehameha wave split the clouds, revealing the Blood Moon fueling their foes. This wasn’t battle. It was a symphony of annihilation, two legends rewriting fate through fists and flame.
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