Xilu Becomes A Complete Body—The Androids’ Demise Fuels a Perfect Terror

The ruined town sprawled beneath a sky choked with ash, its streets a graveyard of shattered lives. Androids 17 and 18 stood amid the carnage, their detectors humming as Renkai, Trunks, and Siru descended. Trunks: 4.4 million. Renkai: 530,000 (hidden). Siru: 120,000 (hidden). Blood pooled around broken bodies, the air thick with the stench of death and the androids' mocking laughter. Trunks' fists clenched, his voice a raw snarl. "Demons! You've butchered another town—how many more?!"

No. 17 grinned, twirling his pistol. "A compliment, Trunks—thanks! We'll kill your pals here, but you? We'll let you limp away again. Hahaha!" No. 18's cold eyes glinted, her heel grinding a corpse's skull to dust.

"Spare me?" Trunks spat, trembling with rage. "You're the ones who'll die today." Renkai stepped forward, spitting his gum at their feet—a deliberate taunt, his smirk unshaken.

The androids' laughter faltered, replaced by a chilling stillness. "Ridiculous fool," No. 17 sneered, though his gaze hardened with murder. No one had dared insult them so brazenly—fear was their currency, and Renkai had just spit on it. No. 18's lip curled, her amusement gone. "Dead man talking."

In a flash, No. 17 lunged, fist arcing toward Renkai's skull with lethal force—500 million in raw power. "Die, you—" His snarl morphed into a gasp as Renkai raised a single finger, stopping the blow cold. The air quivered, No. 17's knuckles trembling against an immovable wall.

Trunks gaped, awe overtaking fury. "Mr. Renkai… incredible!" Even as a Super Saiyan, he'd have buckled under that punch—yet Renkai stood unfazed, a titan in casual guise.

No. 18's pretty face twisted, disbelief cracking her poise. "No. 17's the strongest alive—how?!" Her own 420 million paled beside him, and this defiance shook her core.

"Bastards, I called you," Renkai said, voice dripping contempt. "What, too proud to hear it?" He spat again, this time square in No. 17's face. The android's veins bulged, rage contorting his features, but his fist wouldn't budge. Humiliation burned, spit dripping un wiped.

"I'm the world's strongest!" No. 17 roared, pride a jagged edge. Renkai half-expected a reckless stand—pride over reason, like Cell's folly in another tale. But these weren't warriors; they were predators, feasting on the weak. No. 17 whirled, bolting with uncanny speed. No. 18 mirrored him, splitting in the opposite direction—tacit cowards fleeing a real threat.

Renkai didn't move. Siru did.

A guttural cry split the air as No. 17 and No. 18 crumpled mid-escape, writhing in agony. Their bodies locked, faces contorted—Siru's telekinesis, inherited from Chiaotzu's cells, pinned them like flies in amber. Unlike Cell, who'd squandered such power in the old timeline, Siru wielded it with relish. Why waste a weapon this sharp?

No. 17's eyes widened, fear overtaking fury as Siru loomed closer, greed glinting in his insectoid gaze. "What are you—let me go!" Siru's hand brushed him, and with a grotesque shimmer, No. 17 shrank into a carrot—orange, trembling. Siru crouched, popping it into his mouth, crunching with delight. Energy surged, a shockwave rippling as his form shifted—second stage, burly and green, sausage-mouthed, the insect fading into muscle.

Trunks staggered, horror and awe warring on his face. "So strong…" The pressure dwarfed the androids' menace, a new terror rising.

Siru licked his lips, turning to No. 18. She thrashed against the invisible grip, desperation cracking her icy facade. "No—please! Don't turn me into that—eat me! Spare me, I'll do anything!" Her plea aimed at Renkai, Siru's deferential stance marking him as the master.

Siru's hand froze inches from her, glancing back. Renkai met No. 18's gaze—beauty masking a rotten soul. "Such a pretty shell, wasted on a demon," he said, shaking his head. "Siru, finish it."

"Yes, Lord Renkai!" Siru's grin widened, hand descending. "No!!" No. 18's scream cut off as she shrank into a carrot, joining her brother's fate. Siru devoured it, savoring each bite. The ground quaked as his power spiked again, a roar tearing from him. When the dust settled, he stood transformed—sleek, handsome, a perfect Cell beyond his counterpart's reach. Siru: 4.2 billion (complete).

"Haha!" Siru laughed, touching his face. "Perfect before Cell—he'll choke on envy!"

Renkai adjusted his detector, nodding. "4.2 billion—nice jump." Trunks stared, overwhelmed. "He's… unreal. Stronger than they ever were."

"Don't sell yourself short," Renkai said, clapping his shoulder. "Hybrid Saiyan blood—you'll hit this tier with work." Trunks blinked, hope flickering. "Really?"

"Let's head back—revive the fallen," Renkai said, flicking away a cigarette butt. They returned to Bulma's hideout, Trunks bursting with the news: "Mom, 17 and 18 are gone!" Bulma's eyes welled, relief trembling through her.

Renkai granted Trunks' wish—Shenron's power flaring to resurrect all good souls lost to the androids. Gohan emerged, arm restored, alongside the Z Fighters—save Vegeta, his villainy barring him from the call. A Trunks clone materialized in Renkai's arsenal, weaker but striking, a trophy of the wish.

For days, Renkai guided the revived warriors, fortifying their shattered world. On the eve of departure, he paused, detector beeping. A faint, dark signature pulsed—unseen, growing. He smiled at the group. "One last gift—I'll nix a hidden threat before we go."

The wasteland stretched quiet, but something stirred beneath, its malice a whisper against Siru's triumph.

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