NOTICE: This story is the sequel to "Dragon Ball: Chaotic Future" which you can access through my profile. Enjoy!

A grave betrayal at the hands of his once trusted allies led to the deaths of those Miura held most dear, and though the Genjin warriors Kalen and Kirien paid for their treachery with their lives, the victory came at far too high a price for the former Emperor and his companions.

Five years have passed since the final conflict…

A new threat has emerged from the past, one that will force Miura, who chose the fate of an exile and vowed to leave his old life far behind him, to once again take up the struggle against an ancient evil. But will the disheartened warrior be willing to fight, or do the wounds from his last battle go far deeper than anyone had ever thought?

Dragon Ball:

Chaotic Universe

PROLOGUE

"Dark Agenda."

It watched.

Its target entered the darkened room slowly, his usually overpowering aura more subdued than it usually was. After a long day of nonstop work, the lavender-haired young man, despite his better than average strength and stamina, was clearly and deservedly exhausted, and after watching the not-quite-human warrior for the past few years, it knew that this was its best chance for success. While at full strength, the muscular, powerful young fighter would have no difficulty resisting its influence, but now, while he was fatigued and his mind was numbed from the day's work, the teal-eyed individual would most certainly be overwhelmed.

The man sat on the edge of his small bed; slowly, his arm muscles protesting every inch of the way, he removed his skintight, black sleeveless shirt, tossing it carelessly aside as he bent over to take off his dark yellow boots. Now, finding himself slightly more comfortable, the young man lay back, letting his exhaustion get the better of him. Soon after, without even crawling under his blankets, the wearied fighter drifted off into a deep sleep.

In one corner of the small room, a patch of shadow shone slightly darker than the rest of the dim chamber. A darkness filled with malice, a thing of pure, unthinkable evil slowly began to gather there, subtly calling upon all of its diminished power for this gambit. A feeling of wicked glee welled up within the miasma of darkness, causing the very air in the room to shudder and grow cold. Finally, after years of preparation, its patient planning would bear fruit. True, its three companions had already chosen and subdued their targets, but it refused to settle for anything other than the best.

And this extraordinarily powerful, yet conspicuously inhuman warrior was, without question, the best that planet Earth had to offer…

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Trunks' dreams were troubled.

Namek was a graveyard, littered with the bleached bones and decomposing remains of its once-wise people. The sky was dark, darker by far than it truly had been on that day, and bolts of flashing green lightning cast a sinister glow upon the surface of the planet. Kalen, his face a contorted mask of malicious pleasure, stood over him, his grey-green eyes alight with a madness that struck fear into the very core of his being. He couldn't move, he could barely even speak, and he knew that this was finally it… There would be no escape this time… Kalen pointed his hand toward him, his black-gloved palm glowing brightly with what would soon become certain death. The blast was unleashed; it swept over him, burning him and causing him to cry out. His flesh felt like it was being seared from his bones, the pressure around his brain was too much, too intense—

His eyes shot open, wide with fear and the certainty that death was about to take him. He couldn't move; all he could do was stare blankly at the ceiling of his room at Capsule Corporation. Yes, his home. Capsule Corporation… West City… Earth… Far, far away from Namek, where he had nearly been incinerated by the treacherous Genjin criminal.

It never ceased to amaze him that, even though five years had passed, dark memories of his near-death at the Genjin's hands haunted him still. His defeat by Kalen had left many scars, and not just the numerous ones on his body, which his father would undoubtedly be impressed with, were he alive to see them. No, his mind had suffered greatly as well, and it would take much longer to heal than his body had.

Eventually his paralyzed body responded to his commands, and he slowly sat up, ignoring the sharp aches and pains that shot through his protesting arms, legs, and back. Construction, Trunks was forced to admit, was not nearly as easy as he would have thought, and after five years of nonstop work and rebuilding, there was still plenty left to do. Earth was, however, finally returning to some semblance of order, and he liked to think that he had had a hand in that.

In fact, to prove how far the planet had come since it's near-destruction at the hands of first the androids, then Cell, then Tempest, then the Genjins, several of the prominent leaders from around the world had decided to put on the first World Martial Arts Tournament in nearly thirty years. The announcement had been made several months ago, giving any interested parties enough time to prepare, and the event would be held in exactly two weeks. Despite his mother's prodding, Trunks had decided not to enter the tournament, claiming that it would obviously be unfair for him, a warrior with the power of a Super Saiyan, to compete against what would probably amount to some near-amateur martial artists.

Still, he thought to himself as his eyes started to finally adjust to the darkness, it may be fun to watch, at least. And who knows, maybe— Something from the edge of his field of vision caught his attention, and he leapt forward as a bolt of scintillating dark energy annihilated his small bed. Another blast, originating from the far corner of the room, coursed toward Trunks, who easily deflected it. Though it made almost no contact at all, the half-Saiyan's arm still throbbed afterward, and the top layer of skin had been burned away.

"Show yourself!" Trunks commanded, assuming a defensive stance and scanning the room for any sign of his assailant. Nothing, other than an inky blackness that seemed to hover several feet away from him, seemed out of place. But this patch of darkness, the only possible source of the negative energy, exuded an aura of undisguised malevolence, clouding the room with its vile presence. What the hell—

Tendrils of shadow suddenly stretched toward him, and before he could adequately defend himself, Trunks was bound by bands of burning, pulsing dark power. No matter how he struggled, the half-Saiyan Prince was unable to free himself, and, if anything, the pressure around his immobilized body only increased as the minutes dragged on. Without warning, Trunks felt something, some presence enter his mind, subtly attempting to usurp control of his body. Before it could assume complete dominion, Trunks decided that he'd had enough.

"Get… out… of… my head!" he screamed, dipping into the deep well of savage strength that dwelt within him. Immediately, Trunks' body was surrounded by an aura of brilliant, yellow-gold energy, and the small, darkened room was illuminated with the light of a Super Saiyan.

Amazingly, one patch of darkness remained, though the rest of the chamber was flooded with light. This floating miasma of loathsome, evil power hovered momentarily in the air before Trunks, as if paralyzed with shock. The bands of black energy that had held tightly to the Saiyan's body suddenly loosened, and as the shadowy haze pulled back and disappeared, it let loose with a bellow of hatred and rage that shook the whole of Capsule Corporation to its foundation, shattering nearly every window in the main compound, and more than a few in the surrounding city as well.

Allowing his Super Saiyan aura to die down, the wearied Trunks fell to his hands and knees, his body trembling, tingling with pain, and drenched in sweat. He kept his eyes clenched shut, trying to hold back the wave of nausea that had gripped him while in the clutches of that thing. He could hear footsteps approaching quickly from the hall, and he staggered—barely—to his feet. He turned around to face the door just as his mother burst in.

"Trunks, what the hell is going on?!" Bulma cried, her teal-eyes, a mirror image of Trunks' own, wide with concern, and more than a little fear. Her shoulder length hair, once a gorgeous shade of blue, now streaked with an incredible amount of silver and grey, was a mess, and the robe she wore had obviously been donned with haste. In her trembling hands, Bulma held a rifle, obviously having been ready to do battle with whoever, or whatever, had caused the sudden tremor that rocked most of the city. As she took in the state of Trunks' room, and the exhausted features of Trunks himself, Bulma gasped. "Trunks, are you alright? What happened?"

The purple-haired Prince remained silent, wondering how he was ever going to explain what had just occurred to his mother, when he wasn't quite sure himself…

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It had failed, miserably.

Somehow, the young warrior had sensed it's presence before it had been fully ready to execute the take-over. All of its planning, all of its patience for the last three years had been for naught, and that rankled it far more than simply failing…

His power is far beyond what I had anticipated, it was forced to admit, much to its chagrin. The dark miasma floated high above the now-active West City, watching the commotion that it had caused, inwardly spiteful that, despite having expelled almost all of its energy in that final shriek, not a single building had fallen. What a shame…

But, though it had failed to obtain the prize it had so unwavering sought out, the entity knew that there were other bodies, powerful bodies, to be had elsewhere on the planet. One in particular had caught its attention some time ago: the green-skinned loner who never strayed from his home in the Yunzabit Heights; he had power and skill that rivaled that of the teal-eyed quasi-human's. With a little work, the green one would make a fine substitute, to be sure.

With what would have been a grin of evil confidence had it a body to control, the dark entity turned its attention north, and it began its long flight to the place it and its companions had remained hidden since being freed from their floating prison almost six years ago.

Soon, we will be free to roam this world again, it thought, feeling something akin to happiness as it made its way slowly to rejoin its three companions. And we will have what is rightfully ours, as Guardians…