The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window, dancing across the bed as Gran rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
"Where am I?"
He bolted upright, scanning the room. It was the same guest room he always used at Capsule Corp on Earth. He massaged the back of his neck, a sharp realization hitting him as he felt a lingering dull ache. His movement froze. The soreness was a dead giveaway—Whis had definitely chopped him in the neck.
Gran collapsed back onto the pillows with a sigh. Last night's battle had been the most exhilarating experience of the past two years; just thinking about it made his blood pump.
It was a shame, though—three minutes was far too short. He closed his eyes, spending the next half hour mentally reviewing the exchange and consolidating the gains he'd made during his two-year training stint.
A light tapping on the door broke his concentration. "Lord Gran, time for breakfast!" Bulma's chirpy voice called out.
"Be right there."
After a quick wash, Gran stepped outside. The morning air was crisp, and the sun was still gentle. Bulma was waiting for him in the courtyard. Her skin was porcelain-fair, her features delicate, and her lips held a natural cherry-pink tint. When she smiled, her mouth tilted up in a way that was undeniably sweet.
"How are you feeling in the gravity suit today?" Gran asked with a grin. Even though the suit was bulky and cumbersome, it didn't hide her charm; if anything, it gave her a rugged, "Amazonian" sort of appeal.
"Much better than yesterday." Bulma squeezed her small fists, gradually acclimating to the massive well of power surging within her.
"Good. Give it a few more days, and once you take that off, you can try taking to the skies." Gran stepped further into the yard, about to ask what was on the menu, when two figures on the lawn caught his eye: little Broly and Beerus. "Why are they still out here?"
It looked like the two of them had spent the entire night sleeping on the grass. Just then, Whis strolled out from a side building.
"Whis, didn't you take Lord Beerus back to his room last night?" Gran asked, turning around.
"Hmm?" Whis looked puzzled. When his eyes landed on the sleeping Cat-God, his eyes widened in rare surprise. "Oh dear. I was so focused on getting you tucked in that I completely forgot about Lord Beerus."
Gran stood there, speechless. They really had left the God of Destruction out in the elements all night.
At that moment, Beerus began to stir. Gran broke into a cold sweat, and Bulma started shaking like a leaf. If Beerus woke up and realized he'd been treated like a lawn ornament, the consequences would be dire.
"Whis! Knock him out, quick!" Gran hissed urgently.
"On it!"
A split second before Beerus could open his eyes, Whis blurred across the yard. Thud. Beerus went limp again.
Bulma let out a long breath of relief, though she couldn't help but giggle. "Is it really okay to keep doing that to him?"
Gran shot her a look. "What choice do we have? You know his temper. Do you want him to wake up and decide Earth looks better as stardust?"
"Earth has too much good food," Bulma countered, puffing out her cheeks. "He'd never destroy it over a nap."
Gran opened his mouth to argue, realized she actually had a point, and huffed. "Fine. Then I'll wake him up right now and you can be the one to calm him down!"
"Never mind!" Bulma squeaked, shrinking back. She wasn't that brave.
Whis carried Beerus off to a proper bed while Gran picked up his "little brother," Broly, and headed for the dining room. "Lord Gran, wait for me!" Bulma called out, struggling with her weighted suit. Gran doubled back and ended up carrying her and Broly like two oversized chicks under his arms.
In the dining room, Gran nudged Broly awake. "Big brother Gran? Is it morning already?" The boy rubbed his eyes, standing politely by the table.
"Yeah, morning," Gran smiled. Compared to Beerus, Broly was a saint. Having survived on Vampa for years, a night on a manicured lawn was probably the most luxurious sleep the kid had ever had.
"Lord Gran, who is he?" Bulma asked, finally getting a good look at the child. "Is he... your son?"
"Don't even start!" Gran barked. "He's a Saiyan, just like Kakarot and me. His name is Broly."
"Oh! I see." Bulma knew "Kakarot" was Goku's birth name.
Whis materialized in the room shortly after. "Lord Beerus is settled. When he wakes, he'll be none the wiser," the Angel said with a mischievous glint. Bulma stifled a laugh; these two were surprisingly devious.
"Wait, what's this?" Whis paused at his seat, noticing two tin cans.
Bulma started trembling again, this time from suppressed laughter. She was still salty about Whis ruining her chance to "inspect" Gran's abs the night before.
"What are you laughing at?" Gran asked, sensing her weird vibe. He looked over at the cans.
Canned Herring!
"Hey! Bulma, do you have a death wish?!" Gran teleported over, snatched the cans, and dunked them deep into the trash. He turned to Whis, who was looking at Bulma with a very specific, knowing smile.
Under that gaze, a cold sweat broke out on Bulma's forehead. Whis was always polite and elegant, which made it easy to forget his power level. This was the man who trained Beerus. What had she been thinking?
"Well then, let us have breakfast," Whis said, waving it off. It was a simple meal—miso soup and rice balls—but he ate with gusto.
"Is... is he still mad?" Bulma whispered to Gran.
"He was never mad to begin with," Gran replied, sitting down. He tried the soup but found the taste a bit too fermented for his liking. "I've spent years telling him I'd make him stinky tofu, but I've never actually dared to do it. You're playing with fire, Bulma."
"Stinky tofu?" Bulma had never heard of it, but the name alone was enough. She stood up and bowed to Whis. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Whis!"
Whis finished his meal, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, and gave a simple, "Mm-hmm." Bulma finally relaxed.
Gran chuckled. "You're a bold one, I'll give you that. Anyway, Whis, how's the ranking of Universe 7 looking these days?"
Whis blinked. "Ranking? Why the sudden interest? We're still second-to-last. It's hardly a thrilling read."
Bulma perked up. Second-to-last? This whole universe?
"It's been ten years since I checked," Gran said, leaning his chin on his hand and pushing the miso soup away. "I'm curious. Take a look."
Whis didn't refuse. He tapped his staff, and the crystal ball displayed the Mortal Level Index. His eyes widened. "Our Mortal Level has risen to 3.21?!"
Whis sounded genuinely shocked. Ten years ago, after Beerus had "pruned" a significant number of low-quality planets, the index had jumped from 3.18 to 3.20. That jump had been a huge deal, even drawing Champa and Vados over to investigate. But to rise again in just ten years?
"Only a 0.01 increase?" Gran sounded disappointed.
"You think 0.01 is small?" Whis stood up, his voice sharp. "Do you have any idea how hard most Destroyers and Kais work to move the needle even a fraction of that? And you're unsatisfied?"
"I know it's a lot for ten years, but aren't we still second-to-last?" Gran laughed helplessly. "It's a bit embarrassing to brag about."
Whis rolled his eyes. Embarrassment is a mortal luxury, he thought. Before he could investigate the cause of the shift, Beerus finally stumbled into the room, rubbing his neck.
"Whis... why does my neck hurt so much? I feel like I slept on a rock."
Gran and Whis shared a silent look. Bulma bit her lip to keep from exploding. Broly, oblivious to the tension, was currently trying to figure out how to fit a water-trough-sized barrel of rice balls into his stomach.
"What's with the faces?" Beerus narrowed his eyes. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing at all," Gran said, quickly ushering Beerus into his chair and signaling a servant to bring more food. "The sparring last night got a bit out of hand, and we lost track of time. Whis had to put us both down to prevent Earth from being collateral damage."
"Ah, right. That explains the ache!" Beerus grumbled, accepting the explanation. He knew Whis had to intervene if they fought for more than three minutes. "Still... I've been knocked out by Whis before, but it usually doesn't hurt this much."
Pfft! Bulma couldn't hold it. She sprayed her drink. That's because you got hit twice, you big cat! she thought, though she kept it to herself.
"What is so funny?" Beerus glared around the table. "I'm starting to think you're all hiding something from me."
"Perish the thought," Gran said, shooting Whis a 'help me' look.
Whis sighed and took the bait. "Lord Beerus, our Universe's Mortal Level has changed again."
Beerus froze. He slammed his hands onto the table with such force that the entire thing flipped. Poor Broly, who was mid-chew, ended up with an entire vat of rice balls inverted onto his head.
"Lord Beerus, why did you attack me?" Broly asked, his voice muffled by rice, looking utterly confused.
Beerus ignored him. He grabbed Whis by the shoulders. "How much?! How much did it go up?"
"My, my, Lord Beerus. Since when do you care about rankings?" Whis teased. If Beerus had truly cared, he wouldn't have spent centuries napping while Majin Buu was rampaging through the Kaioshin Realm.
"I don't care about the number!" Beerus snapped, letting go. "I just care that we aren't last. As long as we stay ahead of Universe 9, Grand Zeno won't have a reason to erase us."
Whis paused. "Then why the excitement?"
"It's because of this brat!" Beerus pointed at Gran. "He keeps nagging me about being the 'Strongest Destroyer' while managing a 'Second-to-Last' universe. It's bad for my reputation!"
Gran scratched his head. "Did I say that? ...Yeah, I guess I did."
Beerus huffed and sat back down as Whis restored the table to its original state. As he ate, he grumbled about how "second-to-last" didn't fit his status.
Whis smiled secretly. He knew the truth. Beerus didn't care about his reputation nearly as much as he cared about Gran's goals. Beerus was subconsciously working harder just because he wanted his student to be proud of the universe he was inheriting.
"Whis," Beerus asked between bites, "why did it go up so fast? Ten years for a 0.01 jump is unheard of."
"Let me check." Whis began scanning the Seventh Universe.
Gran sat back, watching them. He already knew the answer. Universe 7 was the most "resource-rich" universe in the multiverse, even if the numbers didn't show it yet.
They had three Angels (counting Whis's siblings/associates), two Kais, the strongest Destroyer, and a candidate who was a literal prodigy.
But it went deeper than that. Universe 7 was home to the Namekians with their Dragon Balls, the Metamorans with their Fusion, the Yardrats with their Spirit Control... these weren't just "strong" races; they were races that defined the "foundation" of a universe. Then there was the tech: Androids that could rival gods, Capsules that defied physics, and Time Machines that could rewrite history.
Gran had traveled the stars for two years. He had seen civilizations blossoming in the shadows. He knew that Universe 7 wasn't weak—it was just unpolished. And with him there to guide it, "second-to-last" wouldn't be their rank for much longer.
After all, if Beerus could keep them in 11th place while sleeping through the centuries, imagine what would happen now that they were actually trying.
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