Kamar-Taj, Nepal
Karl Mordo found the Ancient One in her usual meditation chamber, seated before a low table where steam rose from freshly poured tea. The room's austere simplicity—stone walls, minimal furnishings, a single window overlooking the Himalayas—reflected the philosophical clarity she cultivated in her students.
"Sorcerer Supreme," Mordo said, bowing slightly.
The Ancient One gestured toward the cup waiting across from her. An invitation rather than command.
Mordo settled into the offered position and lifted the tea to his lips. The liquid's warmth spread through his chest, and with it came the familiar centering effect—mind quieting, emotions settling into manageable channels. He'd drunk this same blend hundreds of times during training, and the ritual never failed to ground him.
"I must apologize, Master," Mordo began, setting the cup down with careful precision. "I failed in this year's Dragon Ball tournament. I'm not qualified to make the wish."
The Ancient One's expression showed neither disappointment nor surprise. Her eyes—ancient beyond mortal comprehension despite her youthful appearance—regarded him with patient curiosity.
"What did you learn from the experience?" she asked.
The question wasn't rhetorical. She genuinely wanted his assessment.
Mordo considered carefully before responding. "This world contains far more mystery than I'd previously understood. Powers and forces that exist completely outside our awareness at Kamar-Taj."
His fingers traced the rim of his teacup. "Technological advancement has exceeded my expectations as well. Tony Stark's armor approached mystical capability through pure engineering."
He paused, then continued. "I'd read about Asgard and Thor in our library archives. But reading about gods and actually fighting one? The gap between theoretical knowledge and practical experience is... vast. Thor's hammer shattered my Mirror Dimension. Simply broke through dimensional barriers through raw power rather than mystical understanding."
The memory still stung. He'd deployed one of Kamar-Taj's most sophisticated techniques—battlefield manipulation through pocket dimension—and Thor had demolished it with brute force.
"Beyond that, I witnessed werewolves, vampires, Eternals, and other beings I can't easily categorize." Mordo's tone carried genuine confusion. "Which brings me to a question I cannot reconcile."
The Ancient One waited, sipping her own tea.
"Earth has so many powerful individuals. Gods. Immortals. Enhanced humans with extraordinary capabilities. Why don't we recruit them to help defend against dimensional invasions? Why does Kamar-Taj stand alone when we could build a coalition?"
The Ancient One set down her cup with the soft click of porcelain on wood. "Because everyone has different missions, Karl. Their purpose is not to fight dimensional invasions."
Her gaze held steady on his face. "Just as our mission is not to be superheroes fighting street-level crime in cities. We could intervene in every mugging, every assault, every robbery. But that's not our calling. We protect Earth from mystical threats that others cannot perceive, let alone combat."
She gestured toward the window, where the Himalayas stretched in snow-covered majesty. "Thor defends the Nine Realms. The Eternals guard against Deviant threats. Smith Doyle manages supernatural organizations. Each serves their purpose. Expecting them to abandon their missions for ours would be asking them to fail their own responsibilities."
Mordo nodded slowly, processing the philosophy. But something else weighed on his conscience.
"I wanted to speak with Smith Doyle after the tournament," he admitted. "To discuss using the Dragon Balls for a wish that would permanently strengthen Earth's dimensional barriers. Make invasions more difficult for entities like Dormammu."
His expression darkened. "But after the competition ended, he evacuated everyone except the champion and close associates. I never got the opportunity."
Mordo's fingers tightened around his teacup. "And beyond that... the resurrection. Xu Wenwu bringing his wife back from death. It troubles me deeply. Resurrection violates natural law. Death exists for a reason. What are the consequences of reversing it? What balance are we disrupting?"
Understanding crystallized in the Ancient One's eyes. Her student was struggling with core philosophical conflicts—the tension between intervention and natural order.
"So you would use the Dragon Balls to interfere with dimensional invasion," she observed, "but you're troubled by their use for resurrection."
Mordo opened his mouth, then closed it, recognizing the contradiction even as he tried to articulate it. "That's... different. The Dragon Balls would be like... like any other mystical artifact we employ. A tool in service of Earth's protection."
"Would they?" The Ancient One's tone carried gentle challenge rather than criticism. "Or would you be using cosmic power to circumvent consequences that exist for reasons you don't fully understand?"
Mordo had no immediate answer.
The Ancient One rose fluidly, her robes settling around her like water finding its level. "Reflect on this tournament experience, Karl. Consider what you've seen and learned. Examine your assumptions about natural law and intervention."
It was dismissal, but kind dismissal. An assignment rather than reprimand.
Mordo stood and bowed. "Yes, Sorcerer Supreme."
He departed the meditation chamber with more questions than he'd arrived with—which was probably the point.
Asgard, Royal Palace
Heimdall entered the throne room where Odin sat upon the golden seat of All-Father authority. The all-seeing guardian moved with his characteristic measured grace, each step purposeful and precise.
"God-King," Heimdall said, inclining his head respectfully.
Odin gestured for him to proceed. "Report."
"Prince Thor failed to win the Dragon Ball tournament championship. He was eliminated in the semifinal round by Xu Wenwu of the Ten Rings."
Heimdall's expression remained neutral, but his tone carried notes of assessment rather than mere recitation. "The defeat came through tactical oversight rather than insufficient power."
Odin's visible eye closed briefly, disappointment evident in the tightening around his mouth. Another year. Another failed attempt. Loki remained lost in the cosmic void, and Thor's chance to resurrect his brother had slipped away.
"However," Heimdall continued, "the prince did not leave empty-handed. His divine power awakened further during combat. He released lightning without Mjolnir's assistance—pure godly might channeled through his own body."
Odin's eye snapped open, focus sharpening. "Without the hammer?"
"Yes, God-King. Though there is a complication." Heimdall's tone carried careful neutrality. "Thor manifested this ability while unconscious. A berserker state triggered by grief and desperation. Upon waking, he could not reproduce the feat consciously."
Odin absorbed this information with the practiced evaluation of someone who'd ruled for millennia. His son had touched the truth—that Thor was the God of Thunder, not the God of Hammers. But he hadn't grasped it fully. Not yet.
Still, progress. Seeds planted that would eventually bear fruit.
"What did you observe of Shenron's wish ceremony?" Odin asked.
Heimdall's expression showed rare frustration. "The dragon's manifestation blocked my sight. When the wish was made, darkness covered Earth completely. My all-seeing gaze could not penetrate it."
His jaw tightened. "The dragon's power exceeds my observation capabilities. Or perhaps the guardian—Smith Doyle—possesses some means of blocking divine sight that I cannot counter."
Odin considered this carefully. A dragon that could blind Heimdall represented significant cosmic power. And if Smith Doyle could shield himself from Asgard's observation...
"However," Heimdall continued, "when Earth returned to normal illumination, a new woman stood upon the arena platform. Based on the participants' reactions—particularly Xu Wenwu's—the wish was clearly granted. Resurrection, most likely."
Odin nodded slowly, plans forming behind his eye. "Thor will remain on Earth. Let him acclimate to Midgard, build relationships with its defenders. When the next Dragon Ball tournament approaches, he'll be positioned to compete again."
His fingers drummed against Gungnir's shaft. "You will continue searching for Dragon Ball locations once they reactivate. The moment you locate them, inform Thor directly through your communication abilities."
Heimdall bowed. "As you command, God-King."
The guardian departed, leaving Odin alone with his thoughts and the weight of fatherhood across impossible distances.
Eternals' Aircraft, Over Pacific Ocean
The interior of the Eternals' transport aircraft was configured for comfort rather than efficiency—plush seating, ample space between occupants, atmospheric lighting that mimicked natural sunlight. They'd learned over seven millennia that immortals trapped in confined spaces required certain amenities.
Ajak sat at the conference section's head, her expression carrying the weight of leadership that seven thousand years had made familiar. "Everyone, Thena failed to secure victory in this tournament. She cannot cure her Mahd Wy'ry through this cycle's wish."
Around her, the other Eternals showed varying degrees of concern. Gilgamesh's massive hands clenched unconsciously. Sersi's expression carried sympathetic pain. Even Druig—cynical, detached Druig—looked troubled.
"But we cannot give up," Ajak continued firmly. "When the next Dragon Ball tournament occurs, I want everyone prepared to assist Thena's victory. All resources. All capabilities. Whatever it takes."
Kingo leaned forward, his showman's charisma momentarily subdued by genuine concern. "What exactly do you need from us, Ajak? Specific assignments would help."
Gilgamesh's voice rumbled like distant thunder. "I'll do whatever necessary. Thena's fought beside me for millennia. If she needs me to enter the tournament myself, I will."
Sersi raised one hand tentatively. "Leader, have you considered negotiating directly with Smith Doyle? Offering payment—resources, service, technology—in exchange for using a Dragon Ball wish to cure Thena outside the tournament structure?"
Several other Eternals nodded at the suggestion. Ikaris particularly seemed to favor the direct approach over complicated tournament participation.
Ajak's expression showed she'd already considered and evaluated this option. "I will speak with Smith Doyle about that possibility. But breaking established tournament rules won't be simple or cheap."
Her golden eyes swept across her team. "He may refuse entirely on principle. Or demand a price so high that we'd struggle to meet it. We need contingency plans."
She leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Here's my proposal: when the Dragon Balls reactivate—before the next tournament begins—everyone uses their abilities to collect as many Dragon Balls as possible."
Ajak's tone carried strategic calculation honed across thousands of years. "With our combined powers, Dragon Ball collection should be straightforward. Phastos can build detection equipment. Makkari's speed lets her cover vast distances. Druig can use mind control on anyone who finds balls before us. Ikaris has flight and combat capabilities for contested acquisitions."
She ticked off advantages on her fingers. "If we collect all seven before the tournament even starts, we bypass competition entirely. Thena gets her wish without risking another Mahd Wy'ry episode during combat."
Her expression hardened. "Even if we only secure three or four Dragon Balls, we enter the tournament with massive advantage. Fewer balls in circulation means fewer competitors. And Thena participates holding multiple coins from the start."
Silence followed as the Eternals processed the strategy. It was aggressive. Arguably unfair to other potential competitors. But desperation and familial love overrode abstract notions of sportsmanship.
"I'll help," Sprite said quietly. Her illusions could hide their activities from observation.
"As will I," Makkari signed, her hands moving with emphasis. Her speed made her perhaps their most valuable asset for this mission.
One by one, each Eternal pledged assistance. They were family, bound together across millennia and dozens of worlds. Thena's cure was everyone's goal.
Fraternity Aircraft, Approaching New York
Eddie Brock sat in the executive section of Smith's aircraft, Venom providing running commentary in his mind about the tournament's implications. The symbiote had developed... opinions... about various competitors and their capabilities.
Eddie wanted to discuss several ideas with Smith—potential media coverage strategies, public relations angles for the Fraternity's growing profile, maybe even proposals for expanding Universal Capsule Company's reach.
But one glance toward where Smith sat with eyes closed, clearly resting or meditating, convinced Eddie to postpone the conversation. The man had just refereed a tournament featuring gods and immortals. He'd earned some peace.
Eddie settled back in his seat and let Venom continue its speculation about which symbiote-compatible hosts might exist among the tournament's participants.
Smith Doyle's consciousness descended into the familiar void of his system interface. The Dragon Ball Z Dokkan Battle architecture spread before him in layers of light and data, more real here than in the physical world.
The three summon options—Character, Item, Partner—glowed with available energy. Shenron's wish had been granted, the Dragon Balls had scattered, and the system had recharged for Cycle Four.
Smith felt anticipation building in his chest. The last cycle had granted Piccolo's template, brought Korin the Cat Sage, and provided the Senzu Bean. Incredible gains that had pushed his power to new heights.
But now? They'd entered Dragon Ball Z territory. The power scaling increased exponentially. Saiyans. Namekians. Frieza's empire. The Ginyu Force. Androids.
His mind couldn't help but speculate. Would he get Vegeta? Nappa? Raditz? Someone from Frieza's organization? A Super Saiyan template?
And the partner summons... Cell? Android 18? Piccolo post-fusion?
The possibilities felt endless and thrilling.
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