"Mmmm…" The brutish Saiyan known as Broly had finally awoken from his slumber, his eyes slowly fluttering open; as if they had to push through some kind of invisible wall to be lifted after being closed for several hours.
"Finally! You are awake!" Whis, the angel attendant, quickly clasped his hands together as he leaned forward, his face hovering a few feet above the lying down Saiyan.
"Wh-What happened…?" Broly spoke groggily, not sure what exactly had transpired for him to find himself down on the ground like this… The last thing he remembered was him simply training, meditating… And then… Nothing. Did he really lose control? Honestly, it didn't look like it. The land around him seemed mostly like how it was before… Not much had changed. If he had, the landscape around him at the very least would have been completely obliterated… Confusion flooded through the brute as he was stuck in the large confinements of his very own thoughts.
"Ah, I can tell that you are confused, Broly. Allow me to explain. While you were training you managed to tap into the berserk power that lays dormant within you, most likely not on purpose. Before you could get too crazy Lord Beerus knocked you out with a few strikes. I have been tasked with teaching you how to better control that transformation and power." Whis said, casually explaining the events that had occurred in the period of a single day.
"O-Oh… I apologize. For losing control like that." Broly lifted himself up into a sitting position as he apologized, avoiding direct eye contact with the divine being.
"It is quite alright, Lord Beerus was impressed with your power and decided to spare you. Now then, as for training, I think we should get to it soon." Whis peered at his staff, taking a few calculating moments to think.
"Hmm… At the tournament of power, I am sure we witnessed a Saiyan much like yourself. It was a woman who possessed the ability to transform into a Super Saiyan form but with a twist. She gained spiky green hair and large, bulging muscles. But, she seemed to gain control over the form after just a few battles… Perhaps it was determination to help her universe out or something of that nature that enabled her to complete such a feat. We would have to copy that determination and use it for you. It is only a guess but at the moment it's our only option…" The angel finished the last sentence with a sigh.
Broly raised an eyebrow. "Tournament of power? Help her universe?"
Whis made a surprised face but quickly realized his mistake. "Ah, you've never been informed of that tournament. It was filled to the brim with powerful opponents that were determined to save their universe from certain erasure. Of course, in the end, universe 7 succeeded. Your universe. The universe who won gained the super dragon balls, a set of wish orbs that are far more advanced than the ones that sent you to safety when you fought Gogeta. Android 17, one of the select few who got to participate in the tournament from your universe made his wish to restore all destroyed universes back into existence. Quite a noble one if you ask me."
Broly's eyes widened... Something like that really happened and he didn't even know? "Could something like that happen again?" The legendary Saiyan questioned.
Whis, scheming, and forming a new plan smirked. "Of course it could. Anything is possible in the grand scheme of things."
The Legendary Saiyan sat there. Silent and drowned in his thoughts. "If that happened again…" Broly shook his head mid sentence before shooting his gaze toward the angel, a new sense of determination coursing through his veins. "I'm ready."
Whis' lips curled upward in a smile. "Good. Let's begin."
Elsewhere, on earth. An alien with green skin and antennae could be seen clashing with a man sporting spiky black hair, much like Goku and Vegeta.
"Hah!" Gohan grunted as he managed to maneuver himself below Piccolos' outstretched arm, cocking his arm back before swinging it forward and driving it into the Namekian's gut.
"Guh-" Piccolo's mouth was forced open as spit was sent flying wildly from his mouth. Such a powerful blow coming from his student, he felt nothing but pride.
Piccolo stumbled backward, regaining his balance as he narrowed his eyes, making eye contact with the Saiyan.
As soon as one of their muscles even just slightly twitched, the two rushed toward each other once again, taking the muscle contraction as a sign to resume their sparring match. They both raised their forearms and clashed intensely, a shockwave being emitted from the two striking each other; picking up dust and blowing it away… The duo pushed back and forth, neither gaining a clear upper handw. Thinking fast, Piccolo raised his knee, shooting the tip of it into Gohan's ribs.
The half-Saiyan groaned, the strength he was exerting into the clash being cut in half in an instant.
Piccolo smirked, pushing Gohan back several feet. "Take this!" He raised his open hand, leveling his palm with Gohan's head, a yellow sphere of magnificent energy rapidly forming within his grasp. "Ha!" The Namekian released the ball with a grunt; watching as it traveled quickly and neared the Saiyan's body within mere moments.
"Crap!" Gohan, having no choice, raised his forearms with purpose. If he couldn't dodge, he could still at least block, reducing the damage of the blast pretty significantly. The destructive blast continued its descent, pushing into Gohan's arms. "Wait, what?! It's not exploding?!"
Before the Saiyan could realize what was going on, the calculating Namekian had appeared behind him with a stoic expression, shooting his leg up toward the sky before maneuvering it to the side and hitting Gohan with a brutal roundhouse kick to the temple, resulting in a painful sensation tearing it's way through the half breeds head like a horrible migraine.
"Woah-" Gohan was sent flying, flailing, and spinning mid-air too quickly for him to be able to recover. Within seconds, the Saiyan found himself deep within the confinements of a mountain… "D-Damn… Piccolo's kick sure does pack quite the punch…"
Piccolo flew over, floating silently in front of the mountain. He crossed his arms over his chest before clearing his throat. "That's enough, Gohan. You did good today."
Gohan managed to push himself out of the giant, jagged rock, meeting Piccolo's gaze. "Phew… You are better than ever, Piccolo."
"I can say the same to you. With us training more often, you have grown several times stronger since the tournament of power. And that's not even counting that new form of yours…" Piccolo remarked, rubbing the bottom of his chin just as he finished that last sentence.
"Thanks… That means a lot, coming from you. Also, have you seen Gamma 1 around? I've been meaning to see how he's been doing, but I haven't gotten a chance."
Piccolo shrugged, tilting his head up slightly. "Hmph. The last I heard, he was working part-time at capsule corp as a security guard, and when he's off duty, he fights crime."
Gohan smiled, raising his arm upward and driving a hand through his black hair. "Glad to hear he's doing well… Maybe he can join our training sessions one of these days."
The Namekian offered a shrug and grunt in response. The idea of Gamma 1 training with them didn't seem like a bad idea…
"Hmm… Well, I have to get going. I'll be ready to train again tomorrow. See ya!" Gohan waved at Piccolo before flying off, quickly disappearing into the clouds.
The Namekian calmly watched as his student soared away, veering around and gazing at the mountain he had kicked Gohan into. "That brat… He was holding back." Piccolo gritted his teeth… Tension building in the air. "Looks like I will have to double my efforts in training if I want to somewhat keep up…"
And with that, Piccolo flew away too, presumably off to his home to meditate.
Elsewhere, in another universe…
At the brink of a rooftop he stands… His hands, defined and skillful from the many jobs he had completed, were slipped into the pockets of his curious-looking trench coat. A shadow was cast over his gloomy, stoic face, shrouding him in dark mystery.
The man was none other than the deadly assassin from Universe 6, Hit.
Hit looked down upon the rainy city, staring down at the numerous population that flooded through and out the streets. Although there were many people down there, each ranging from dozens of different races and backgrounds, he had only one target. One, almost unbeatable target.
The reward was quite hefty, and it was understandable why. Each other assassin that attempted this bounty before him fell, getting pulled down by the icy grip of death. With that kind of reputation, it steered away all other assassins and bounty hunters… Excluding him.
Honestly, at first glance, Hit didn't understand why his target was so dangerous. How his target even managed to exterminate the previous assassins… The man put himself out in the open, seemingly without a care in the world.
But, through further observation, he had realized the truth. The man wasn't any ordinary person. He was a powerful one, an ex-assassin who knew almost all their tactics... Almost.
Hit peered expectantly, waiting and waiting long enough to wear most people's patience thin… Until finally. His target made his appearance. The man wore a trench coat, much like Hits, but with a much darker tint in color. He kept his head down low, avoiding eye contact with anyone who snuck a glance at the mysterious person. In addition, he also wore a black cap on top of his head, using it to shield his eyes from any light.
The disguise would have fooled anyone, including Hit himself, if it wasn't for previous sightings and his distinctive body movements that only the deadly assassin could pick up on.
He slowly tugged a lonely hand out of his pocket, keeping it closed as he held it out in front of himself. And, in a blink of an eye, his index finger had flicked outward, sending an invisible blast of air at his target's heart.
Hit, with a calculating expression, pushing his hand back into his pocket. He narrowed his eyes at his target as he awaited their official death…
The untraceable, tiny blast of air traveled directly through the ex-assassins heart, decompressing the small area in the middle of the man's right pec.
"Target neutralized…" The legendary assassin muttered in confirmation. Of course, earlier on, he had said that the target was almost unbeatable. But only unbeatable to the other assassins. He wasn't any ordinary bounty hunter.
He held his head low in a grim light as he retreated back to his comfortable spaceship. He entered it without another moment of hesitation, placing his hand on the control pad in front of him.
"Who's next…" Hit murmured quietly as he tapped a series of numbers at a quick pace, showcasing his familiarity with the pad.
"Hmph. No targets besides him." The legendary assassin glanced at the image of his last remaining target; it being none other than the martial artist son Goku. "Perhaps it's time I pay him a visit... It has been a while since I last encountered him, or even entered that universe, for that matter." Hit took a calculating moment to think, to reorder his thoughts, and to plan his next action accordingly.
"There's also the possibility that that angel won't even bring me there again." Hit released a sigh, leaning back in his chair. Doing his line of work was sometimes very tiring… Thinking ahead and planning your every step just to make sure you don't slip up and fall right on your face was unexpectedly the biggest part of the job.
"Hmm…" Hit released a hum as he straightened his posture, repeatedly tapping the control pad of his spaceship as if he was racing to outperform an opponent to start up his ship.
"Looks like I'm paying a visit to Champa and his wise attendant…" It seemed like the assassin had made up his mind… He would attempt to travel to universe 7 and once again pay a visit to a familiar opponent. An opponent who proved again and again that they had no limits.
The engine of his ship roared to life, lifting the hull and it's clutter of machinery into the sky as if it was weightless, quickly disappearing into the planet's orbit and beyond even that.
Hit peered out the window of his ship, watching the various planets stream by as the large spacecraft rocketed throughout the universe at such outlandish speed. He wondered what fate would decide for him this time… Could he somehow control it? Or would it lead him? Questions he would find answers to later, he was sure. But now he just needs to wait and have some patience, something he was already extremely accustomed to.
Elsewhere, on a planet that seemed like it belonged in myth…
A lone warrior stood upon the edge of a cliff. No, a spartan. His skin proved to be as white as the clouds above, evidence of his wrongful past that plagued his every waking moment… The spartan was bald and sported a short, pointy goatee. He was as fierce of a warrior as how he looked, muscles built upon muscles. A large, red tattoo trailed from his left eye, circled his left torso, and ended at his left shoulder. More signs of his dramatic past that haunted him so dearly. A scar was drawn down his left eye, inflicted by a powerful God years ago. Such a sad tale that could be told just by the Spartans' battle-worn appearance alone…
He was the God of War, the Ghost of Sparta, the God killer… He was the Demigod… Kratos!