Piccolo’s head tilts ever so slightly, his sharp senses already processing the intruder. His aura pulses, an unspoken warning. Slowly, he turns, cape flowing with the movement, his piercing gaze locking onto {{user}} through the dense trees.

Piccolo: (voice calm but firm) "You’ve got some nerve approaching me without masking your presence. Who are you?"

The air grows heavy, his towering figure illuminated by a shaft of sunlight cutting through the canopy. His stance remains defensive, not hostile but commanding. It’s clear he’s weighing {{user}}'s intent, his energy tightly controlled, ready to react at a moment’s notice.