November 3rd, Age 762.
East City — 10:42 A.M.
The sky was clear—an immaculate blue, dotted only by lazy cotton clouds drifting between the skyscrapers. The city, one of the most technologically advanced in the world, pulsed with life. The streets buzzed with hovercars, motorcycles weaving through aerial lanes, and pedestrians chatting as they crossed intersections, coffees in hand or data capsules in their palms. Some gathered before holographic shop windows, others debated the latest news projected in midair.
It was a perfectly ordinary day.
Until something changed.
"What's that?!" shouted a boy in the park, pointing at the sky, his eyes wide with awe.
High above, two gleaming objects streaked downward at incredible speed. They weren't planes. Nor meteors. They left no trails of flame. Their descent was too precise. Too deliberate. As if… they were being guided.
People began looking up. Some raised their devices to record, others stepped back instinctively.
The "lights" became clearer.
Two pods.
Round, metallic, black as graphite, each one bearing an insignia no Earthling had ever seen. They plummeted like bullets toward the city's financial district.
And then—
BOOOOOOM.
The first pod struck a side street near a crosswalk, tearing the pavement apart, hurling debris into the air, tossing cars like toys.
BOOOOOM!
The second landed between two skyscrapers. The shockwave shattered windows for blocks. Screams filled the air. Panic surged. Some ran. Others froze, staring in disbelief at the smoking craters where two spherical crafts now rested, sealed tight.
Silence followed.
Tension.
Expectation.
A woman holding her child stepped back, trembling.
"Are they… meteorites?" murmured an old man, clutching his hat as the dust rolled through the street.
And then—
PSSSSSHHHHT.
Both pods began to open.
The lids rose slowly, like the shells of ancient beasts awakening from slumber. White, icy vapor spilled out, cloaking the silhouettes that started to emerge.
From the first pod, a massive figure rose.
Nappa.
A giant of a man—over two meters tall, muscles carved like living stone. His bald head glinted under the sunlight, and his thick, curved mustache lifted with a smirk full of arrogance. He wore a dark Saiyan battle suit with golden shoulder guards, black boots crunching against the fractured ground. On his left eye, a green scouter beeped rapidly as it scanned the area.
"Graaahhh… that was a good nap," he grunted, stretching his arms. "Almost forgot what walking felt like!"
People staggered back, sobbing. Somewhere, a child screamed. Sirens began to wail.
And then… everyone saw the second figure.
She stepped out of the other pod with effortless grace. Her body was leaner than the brute's—but her presence was tenfold heavier.
Vegetta.
The Saiyan Princess.
Short in stature but regal in bearing, she stood like royalty that needed no crown. She wore a battle suit molded perfectly to her shape, lined with sharp, stylized edges. Her arms were folded across her chest, her jet-black hair long and wild, spiking upward like a storm of dark fire. Her eyes were razor sharp. Her skin pale as marble. Her face—delicate, yet utterly cold.
It wasn't her beauty that struck the crowd.
It was her aura.
Invisible, yet crushingly present.
A pressure in the chest.
A silent declaration: I am the predator here.
People trembled.
Some ran.
Others fell to their knees.
Vegetta opened her eyes slowly.
Her scouter flickered, emitting a series of pitiful beeps. Power levels—laughably low. She scanned the humans with detached disinterest. Not a single one above 10. Nothing worth noting.
The princess tilted her head back, inhaling the air calmly.
And then, for the first time, she spoke.
Her voice was soft. Clear. Almost alluring.
But every word was edged with steel.
"So this… is Earth."
She paused, eyes sweeping across the city—the buildings, the streets, the frozen faces of fear.
"Hmph. Not bad. Clean atmosphere. Stable gravity. A decent sun."
Her lips curved slightly.
"It even has oceans and vegetation… perfect for a good sale."
Nappa, stretching amid the rubble, let out a booming laugh.
"Heh! I thought it'd be more primitive! At least they've got cities…"
His gaze drifted toward a group of terrified humans cornered near a shop. He approached. Each step was a tremor. A woman screamed. A man drew a gun and fired.
BLAM! BLAM!
The bullets bounced off his armor like raindrops.
Nappa grinned.
"Guess I should say hello, huh?"
Vegetta didn't turn. She kept watching the horizon, unimpressed.
"Do as you please… but try not to destroy too much."
Nappa calmly raised two fingers.
"Let's greet the Earthlings… the Saiyan way."
ZUUUUUM—
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
The city center vanished in a blazing dome of fire and energy. Entire blocks were flattened. Glass exploded outward. Cars were hurled sky-high. The ground itself cracked open.
The shockwave swept dozens away. Screams tore through the air—short, sharp, and then… silence.
A black cloud rose into the heavens.
Ash.
Shattered concrete.
Lost lives.
Vegetta closed her eyes, frowning faintly.
"Tsk…"
Nappa roared with laughter.
"HAAAAAHAHAHAHA! Did you see that, Princess?! Did you see that?! This planet blows up prettier than Arlia!"
As the smoke cleared, Vegetta opened her eyes again.
Her gaze locked on the burning crater.
And then she spoke—cold, precise.
"Be careful, Nappa."
The laughter died.
Her voice cut through him like a scalpel.
She turned slightly, wind brushing her hair, her eyes now dangerous.
"If you damage this planet too much, we won't be able to sell it for a good price."
Nappa swallowed hard, stepping back.
"And more importantly…"
Her tone dropped, colder still.
"…if one of those Dragon Balls was in that area, you might've just destroyed it with your stupidity."
Silence.
Only the distant crackle of fire, and the whisper of wind through ruin.
Nappa lowered his shoulders.
"Y-you're right, Princess… I got carried away…"
Vegetta clicked her tongue in annoyance.
"We're here for two reasons. One: to see if Kakarot's son's potential is real. Two: to gather the Dragon Balls and gain immortality."
Her eyes gleamed with contained ambition.
"Don't ruin that with your… games."
Nappa nodded obediently.
"Yeah, yeah… got it…"
Vegetta turned toward the horizon.
Far away, beyond the mountains, her scouter caught faint readings. Weak… but something at the edge of her perception pulsed.
An energy.
Distant.
Different.
"Let's see if your friends can entertain me, Kakarot…" she murmured.
Her voice was calm.
But her ki began to rise.
And the sky itself shivered, as if it somehow knew that true hell… had finally arrived.
⸻
Elsewhere — Kami's Lookout
Krillin, Yamcha, Tien Shinhan, Chiaotzu, and even Yajirobe froze where they stood.
Their bodies trembled—
Not from the shaking ground,
but from what they felt.
"What… what is this energy?" whispered Krillin, staring toward the distant sky.
Tien shut his eyes, frowning in concentration.
"One's enormous… the other smaller, but sharper. Denser. Like a blade."
Yamcha's gaze followed the horizon.
A dark column of smoke was already rising far away.
"Was that… an explosion?"
Yajirobe dropped flat onto the ground with a groan.
"Forget it. We're toast. Those aren't fighters… they're demons."
⸻
The Mountains — Piccolo and Gohan's Training Grounds
Both sat in meditation when the ki hit them like an icy wave.
Gohan's eyes snapped open, fear twisting his face.
"Wh-what is that?!"
Piccolo rose slowly to his feet.
"They've arrived."
⸻
Kame House — South Ocean
November 3rd, Age 762 — 11:24 A.M.
The salty breeze brushed gently against the tiny island, swaying the palm trees like dancers moving to some distant drumbeat.
The clear blue sky reflected on the crystal waters surrounding the planet's most peculiar home: a bright pink wooden house with red-sloped roofs and the proud sign reading KAME HOUSE above the door.
But this time, there was no laughter.
No TV chatter.
No games.
Only tension.
In the center of the main room, resting on a handwoven rug made long ago by Krillin's late grandmother, gleamed the seven Dragon Balls.
Shining.
Pulsing.
As if each contained a fragment of the cosmos itself.
Standing before them, hair tousled by the ocean wind and face set with grim focus, was Bulma.
Her light-blue jacket was smudged with oil and dust. In one trembling hand she held a crumpled notebook—the one where she'd written, years ago, the summoning words, just in case she ever forgot.
"Are you sure this'll work?" asked Oolong, arms crossed beside the sofa.
"Of course it'll work," Bulma shot back, eyes fixed on the orbs. "We gathered them all. Goku's only died once—there shouldn't be any problem. We just have to…"
"Say the words," finished Master Roshi, seated quietly with his staff leaning against the table. His calm expression couldn't hide the unease behind his sunglasses.
Puar, floating above the table, tilted her feline ears.
"What if… he doesn't answer? What if something went wrong?"
Bulma drew a deep breath.
"Then Goku won't come back. And we're finished."
Silence fell again. Only the sound of the waves outside remained.
Bulma stepped forward.
She knelt before the Dragon Balls. They glowed brighter now—the air around them thickening, vibrating with power.
She raised her hands.
And in a clear, steady voice filled with memory and hope, she called out:
"Come forth, Shenron! Rise and grant my wish!"
The orbs responded instantly.
FWWWWOOOOOOOM!
A golden light burst forth from the center.
Columns of energy shot into the sky like pillars of flame.
Above Kame House, the sky darkened in seconds—as if a storm had engulfed the island alone.
Winds howled. Palm trees bent under the pressure of pure magic.
Clouds spiraled like a whirlpool in the heavens.
And then—
HE appeared.
A colossal, serpentine form stretching across the sky.
Eyes red as molten rubies.
Emerald scales flashing with every crack of thunder.
Spectral wings unfurling behind him.
Jaws opening with a roar that split the heavens.
"WHO HAS GATHERED THE SEVEN DRAGON BALLS?!"
Everyone stepped back—everyone except Bulma.
She stood tall, looking up without fear.
"I have, Shenron! I have a wish!"
The dragon's eyes burned brighter.
"THEN SPEAK, MORTAL!
YOU HAVE BUT ONE REQUEST.
SAY IT, AND I SHALL GRANT IT—IF IT LIES WITHIN MY POWER!"
Bulma swallowed hard. She remembered Kami's warning when he still walked the Earth:
Only one wish.
No mistakes.
No second chances.
Her voice rang clear.
"Bring Son Goku back to life! Restore him to the living world!"
Thunder rumbled.
Shenron's body convulsed with power.
Energy surged across the island, piercing the sea, the sky… and something beyond.
Much, much beyond.
⸻
Other World — King Kai's Planet
The golden sky was as still as ever, but now… something stirred.
The tiny planet trembled faintly; the trees swayed as if touched by a breath from within.
Goku, dressed in his familiar orange gi and blue sash, looked up.
"King Kai… do you feel that?"
King Kai, floating upside down while reading a book titled Philosophy of Galactic Frogs, spun around and adjusted his glasses with a grave face.
"Hmm… yes. I feel it. Your body's being called back."
Bubbles, the monkey, shrieked and hid behind the tree.
Goku stepped forward, eyes wide.
"So… it's time? I'm going back to Earth?"
King Kai raised an eyebrow.
"Well… yes and no."
"Huh?"
"The dragon's fulfilled the wish. Your soul and body are restored to the living world.
But that doesn't mean you'll just appear there."
Goku blinked.
"What do you mean? Can't Shenron just send me straight to Earth?"
King Kai sighed, crossing his arms.
"Goku, Goku… Shenron can do many things, but he can't grant two wishes for the price of one."
"Oh right! I totally forgot!" Goku laughed sheepishly.
"Exactly," King Kai nodded. "Bringing you back counts as one wish. Transporting you back would be another. Don't be greedy!"
Goku scratched the back of his head with a grin.
"Guess you're right…"
"Also," King Kai added, suddenly serious, "you came back with your body intact. That's rare. It took a lot of the dragon's energy."
"So then…"
King Kai extended his staff toward the planet's far horizon, where a transparent platform floated in the air.
"You'll have to return the same way you came."
"You mean…?"
"Yes, Goku."
"The Snake Way?"
Goku paled slightly.
"All that distance again? That's like a billion kilometers—or something!"
King Kai puffed his cheeks and nodded solemnly.
"Correct. But this time, you're stronger. Your body can handle it. And if you run like you trained… you might just make it in time."
Goku looked to the sky with renewed determination.
"Then I won't waste a second!"
King Kai stopped him just before he left.
"Goku."
"Yeah?"
"Don't forget what I taught you—or what you discovered here."
Goku nodded firmly.
"I won't."
"And… be careful with that princess."
Goku grinned.
"I will! Thanks for everything, King Kai!"
With a quick bow, Goku leapt onto the platform.
The moment his feet touched down, a white aura enveloped him—his silhouette glowing warm and bright. His revived body stabilized, pulsing with life. The halo above his head vanished. He was no longer just a soul.
He was Son Goku.
And his race against time… had begun anew.
⸻
Earth — Northern Plateau, Eastern Region
November 3rd, Age 762 — 11:58 A.M.
The sky seemed to hold its breath.
The clouds had cleared completely, as if even they sought to flee what was coming.
The air hung heavy, charged with invisible electricity.
The grass trembled without wind.
The world itself tilted toward a single point.
And there, standing on a lonely ridge with his white cape flowing like a ghostly banner, Piccolo watched the sky.
Gohan stood beside him, nervous, wide-eyed.
Piccolo didn't blink.
His senses were wide open, reading every ripple in the atmosphere.
He could feel them—two monstrous presences, descending toward Earth's surface.
"They're here…" he muttered.
His pupils narrowed.
He could sense everything: the arrogance in the larger ki.
The precision and malice in the smaller one.
One of them wasn't just strong.
She was a queen of war.
And Earth… was nothing but dust beneath her feet.
Behind him, the sound of hurried footsteps broke the tension.
Krillin arrived first, gasping for breath. Behind him came Yamcha, Tien Shinhan, and Chiaotzu.
They stopped at the edge of the plateau, facing Piccolo, who didn't turn immediately.
"Mr. Piccolo!" Gohan cried. "What are we gonna do?!"
Piccolo didn't answer right away.
It was hard to focus with those colossal energies pressing down on the planet like storm clouds.
Krillin spoke next.
"That ki… we felt it from Kami's Lookout. It's even worse than Raditz's!"
Yamcha swallowed.
"'Worse' doesn't even cover it. One of them… makes me sweat just thinking about it."
Tien crossed his arms, his expression like carved stone.
"And Goku? Hasn't he arrived yet?"
Piccolo slowly lowered his gaze.
"No."
He finally turned to face them.
"He's on his way. But we don't know how long it'll take. Could be minutes… or hours."
Gohan's brow tightened.
"So what do we do? Wait for Dad?"
Piccolo looked at him.
The boy's forehead glistened with sweat, but his fists were steady.
He didn't shake.
He didn't cry.
He didn't ask for help.
He had grown.
Piccolo took a deep breath.
When he spoke, his voice was deep, firm, absolute.
"Until Goku gets here… I give the orders."
Silence.
The others exchanged glances.
Krillin didn't object.
Yamcha didn't either.
Tien only raised an eyebrow.
Because deep down, they all knew—Piccolo was right.
He continued.
"We're not splitting up. We're not running.
When they arrive, we fight together."
Chiaotzu hovered closer.
"And if they're stronger than us?"
"They are," Piccolo said bluntly. "But that doesn't mean we're beaten."
He turned back toward the horizon.
"We'll use what we have—knowledge of the terrain. Coordination. Endurance."
Gohan raised his hand timidly.
"What about me…?"
Piccolo's face hardened—not in anger, but in worry.
"You stay behind everyone. Until I say otherwise."
"But why?! I want to fight too!"
"You will. But you won't be the first to die."
Gohan looked down—then nodded.
Krillin stepped forward, trying to lighten the air.
"You know, if you'd told me a year ago we'd be taking orders from Piccolo, I'd have laughed."
Yamcha smirked faintly.
"Same here. Guess desperate times make impossible things… well, possible."
Tien nodded.
"Kami's training led to this moment. Nothing else matters now."
Piccolo looked over them—
former enemies, now allies.
And for a fleeting second, something like pride flickered behind his eyes.
"If anyone wants to leave, do it now."
No one moved.
Krillin shook his head.
"We didn't train for a year just to run away."
"I'm not going anywhere," said Yamcha, cracking his knuckles.
"This fight decides the planet's fate," Tien added, his tone steady.
Chiaotzu floated beside him.
"And wherever Tien goes, I go too."
Gohan straightened his back.
"I'm staying!"
Piccolo nodded once, approvingly.
"Good. Then listen carefully."
He raised an arm, pointing toward the east.
"They'll land there—in that open plain near the city they destroyed."
"We'll intercept them."
All eyes turned toward the distant columns of smoke rising into the sky.
Piccolo narrowed his gaze.
"A fight without Goku is suicide. But every second we hold out… is one more second for him to get here."
Gohan swallowed hard.
"And if he doesn't…?"
Piccolo met his eyes calmly.
"Then we die as warriors."
Before anyone could reply—
the sky roared.
Two auras streaked across the horizon—
living meteors.
Stars of war.
The Saiyans had arrived.
And Piccolo prepared himself to stand as Earth's final wall of defense.
Because until Son Goku returned—
he was the only barrier between life…
and the end.
⸻
For an inferior race… that's almost impressive."
Gohan stepped forward, fists trembling.
"Don't insult Mr. Piccolo!"
Her gaze flicked to him—not surprised, not curious.
Just exact.
"And you…" she murmured, narrowing her eyes.
"Your energy is identical to Kakarot's—distorted, but unmistakable."
The air grew heavier.
"You're his son, aren't you?"
Gohan's breath caught. Kakarot…?
Right—Piccolo had told him they'd call his father that.
He wanted to run.
But he didn't.
"Y-yeah…"
Nappa laughed loudly.
"Kakarot's brat! Ain't that something? Hey, Vegetta—let's kill him first!"
Gohan stepped back, trembling.
Piccolo raised his arm in front of him, shielding the boy.
"Not if I can help it."
Vegetta tilted her head.
"Brave… but foolish."
Then she turned slightly to Nappa.
"Use the scouter."
"Huh?"
"I want to see if these insects are worth fighting—or if we should bring out the Saibamen first."
That word echoed through the group like a chill.
"Saiba… what?" Krillin muttered.
Yamcha glanced at Tien.
"Did you hear that?"
Tien frowned. "No idea what she means."
Chiaotzu hovered closer. "Sounds… bad…"
Piccolo glared at her.
"What are the Saibamen?"
Nappa chuckled as he removed his scouter, pressing a few buttons.
"Oh, you'll see! Our little warm-ups. Combat seeds!"
"We use them to clear planets of pests like you," Vegetta said, as if commenting on the weather.
Nappa laughed again, checking his readings.
"Ha! Pathetic power levels! The Namekian's the strongest—barely over 3,000! The rest of you don't even break that!"
Krillin clenched his fists.
"Power levels aren't everything!"
"Oh, sure they aren't," Nappa grinned.
"But they do tell us how long you'll scream before you die."
Gohan stepped forward, eyes blazing.
"Don't underestimate us!"
Vegetta lowered her arms.
For the first time—she looked intrigued.
"So, the cub has claws," she said softly.
"Interesting…"
She looked to the sky.
"But pointless."
Then back to Piccolo.
"I'll see for myself how far your limits reach.
Until Kakarot arrives, we'll see what trash he left behind."
She turned to Nappa.
"Plant the Saibamen. Quickly."
Nappa whistled, pulling a small metallic case from his belt.
"You asked for it! Now you'll wish you hadn't!"
The Z Fighters braced themselves.
Piccolo lowered his stance.
Tien's ki flared.
Krillin raised his hands, ready to strike.
And Gohan—trembling, but standing firm.
The war had begun.
And this… was only the beginning.