Across the planet, life kept moving like nothing big was coming—even though everyone who mattered knew better.
At Capsule Corp, the gravity room hummed like an angry beehive. Vegeta stood in the center wearing his blue training suit, arms crossed, sweat already dripping from his chin. The room was set to 800 times Earth's gravity—higher than he usually went this early. Every breath felt like sucking air through a straw.
He powered up. His aura exploded purple and gold, shaking the walls. Then he started moving—fast punches, sharper kicks, spinning elbows that cracked the air. Each hit sent shockwaves that made the floor ripple like water.
"Pathetic," he growled to himself between breaths. "Still not enough."
He thought about Goku's weird new move—the one that twisted space like paper. Vegeta hated it. Hated that Kakarot learned something from an angel that even he hadn't touched yet. Pride burned hotter than the gravity pressing down on him.
He stopped suddenly, fists clenched so tight his gloves creaked.
"Ultra Ego…" he muttered. "Show me more."
His hair flashed magenta for a split second. His eyes went red. The aura around him changed—darker, hungrier, like it was feeding on his own anger. He laughed once, short and mean.
Then he attacked the training dummies Whis had helped Bulma build. They were made of the toughest metal Capsule Corp could produce, reinforced with divine ki traces. One punch and the first dummy folded like tin foil. The second exploded into sparks. Vegeta didn't stop. He kept hitting, faster, harder, letting Ultra Ego eat away at his control just enough to push the limits.
Blood trickled from a cut on his cheek where one dummy managed to tag him before it died. He licked it off his lip and grinned wider.
"Better," he said to the empty room. "But not enough to crush that lizard and his army."
Outside the gravity chamber, Bulma sat at her main console, legs crossed, sipping coffee. She watched Vegeta on the monitor, eyes soft even though her face stayed sharp. Trunks walked in wearing his school uniform, backpack over one shoulder.
"Mom, I'm heading out. Got soccer practice after class."
Bulma nodded without looking away from the screen. "Be careful. And tell Bulla I said no more sneaking candy before dinner."
Trunks rolled his eyes. "She never listens anyway."
He paused at the door, glancing at the monitor too. Vegeta was destroying another set of dummies now, moving so fast the cameras could barely keep up.
"Is Dad… okay?" Trunks asked quietly.
Bulma set her mug down. "He's Vegeta. He's never okay until he's the strongest one in the room. But yeah—he's fine. Just… focused."
Trunks nodded slowly. "Think we're gonna win this time? Against Rishi and everybody?"
Bulma turned to look at her son. She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "We always win. One way or another. Now go. You'll be late."
Trunks gave a small salute and left.
Bulma turned back to the monitor. Vegeta had stopped moving. He stood in the middle of smoking wreckage, chest heaving, staring straight into the camera like he knew she was watching.
She blew him a kiss.
He snorted, turned away, and powered down.
---
Gohan sat in his office at the university, glasses on, papers everywhere. Papers about ki signatures in ancient Namekian texts. He rubbed his eyes and sighed.
Videl walked in with a tray of sandwiches and two cups of tea. Pan was at kindergarten, so the office was quiet for once.
"You look like you haven't slept," she said, setting the tray down.
"I haven't. Not really." Gohan pushed his glasses up. "I've been cross-referencing everything Piccolo told me about Rishi's energy. It's… weird. It doesn't match any known pattern. Not demonic, not divine, not even chaotic like Buu. It's older. Like it was here before the gods were."
Videl sat on the edge of his desk. "So what does that mean?"
"It means if Goku and Vegeta can't stop him at the front line, the rest of us might not even slow him down."
She reached out and touched his cheek. "Then make sure you're ready. You're the smartest one here, Gohan. And you're still the strongest when you need to be."
He gave a tired smile. "Mystic form isn't enough anymore. I need something new."
Videl leaned in and kissed him softly. "Then find it. But tonight—come home. Pan misses her daddy. And I miss my husband."
Gohan pulled her into his lap. "Deal."
They stayed like that for a while, just holding each other, until his phone buzzed.
Piccolo.
Gohan answered. "Hey."
Piccolo's voice was low and rough. "I'm in the wastelands. Northwest. Come train. Bring everything you've got."
Gohan stood up, already loosening his tie. "On my way."
Videl smiled. "Go kick some green butt."
He laughed. "Love you."
"Love you more."
---
Out in the rocky wastelands, Piccolo waited on a cliff edge. Wind whipped his cape. His arms were crossed, eyes closed, sensing everything for hundreds of miles.
Gohan landed softly behind him.
"You're late," Piccolo said without turning.
"Traffic," Gohan joked.
Piccolo opened his eyes. "No jokes today. Rishi's scouts are already probing the outer edges of the solar system. Tiny energy signatures. Testing our defenses."
Gohan's face went serious. "How many?"
"Enough to know we're being watched."
Piccolo turned. "Show me Mystic. Full power. No holding back."
Gohan nodded. White light flared around him. His hair lengthened slightly, aura calm but massive. The ground cracked under his feet.
Piccolo powered up too—orange sparks danced across his green skin. His antennae twitched.
Then they charged.
The clash echoed like thunder across empty canyons. Fists met fists. Elbows cracked against forearms. Kicks sent shockwaves that shattered boulders a mile away.
They moved faster than sound. Piccolo threw a Special Beam Cannon; Gohan deflected it with one hand and countered with a Masenko that lit up the sky like daylight.
Hours passed.
They didn't speak. Just fought. Pushed. Learned each other's limits again.
Finally, both dropped to one knee, breathing hard.
Piccolo wiped blood from his mouth. "Better. But still not enough."
Gohan nodded, sweat dripping. "I know."
Piccolo stood first. "Tomorrow. Same time. Bring your father if he can stop stuffing his face long enough."
Gohan chuckled. "I'll try."
Piccolo looked up at the sky. Stars were starting to appear.
"They're closer every hour," he said quietly. "Whatever Rishi is… it's not just coming for a fight. It wants to erase us. All of us."
Gohan stood beside him. "Then we erase it first."
Piccolo gave the smallest nod.
---
Night fell again.
At Kame House, Master Roshi sat on the porch with a magazine, sunglasses on even in the dark. Oolong and Turtle played cards nearby.
Krillin landed on the sand, 18 floating down beside him holding Marron's hand.
"Evening, old man," Krillin called.
Roshi lowered the magazine. "Well well. The family's here. Come to beg for more training?"
18 smirked. "We're here because Marron wanted to see the ocean. And because Krillin thinks you might actually teach him something useful for once."
Marron ran straight to Turtle and hugged his shell. "Hi Turtle!"
Krillin scratched his head. "We're all training hard. Just… taking a break tonight."
Roshi stood up slowly. "Good. Because breaks are important. You burn out, you die. Simple as that."
He looked at 18. "You too, missy. Android or not—push too hard without rest and even you crack."
18 raised an eyebrow. "Worried about me, old pervert?"
"Always," Roshi said with a wink.
They all laughed.
Later, after Marron fell asleep on a beach towel, Krillin and 18 sat together watching the waves.
"You think we'll make it through this one?" Krillin asked quietly.
18 leaned her head on his shoulder. "We always do."
He wrapped an arm around her. "Yeah. We do."
---
Miles away, in space, a dark fleet moved closer.
Ships like black knives cut through the void.
Inside the throne room, Rishi sat—enormous, eyes like burning coals.
His generals knelt before him. Dozens of them. Each more twisted than the last.
One spoke. "The monkeys are training. The small one bends reality. The prince grows darker. The green one sharpens his mind."
Rishi's tail flicked. "Good."
He leaned forward.
"Let them train. Let them hope."
His voice rumbled like an earthquake.
"When we arrive… hope will be the first thing I take."
He laughed—a sound that made the stars themselves flicker.
And on Earth, under a peaceful moon, people slept, loved, laughed, trained…
While the clock kept ticking.
Faster now.