Son Gohan The Destroyer

by EmeraldSaiyan

Death greets Gohan at the end of the Cell Games, yet instead of passing on to the Otherworld, Whis takes an interest in the young half-saiyan's incredible power and decides to train him as Lord Beerus' successor. With the balance of the universe at stake, Gohan accepts the deity's offer. (AU)

35. Us and Them

Chapter Thirty-Five

Us and Them

Planet Keres, East Galaxy. Age 772.

Demons walk amongst the living.

Some call them Gods, whilst others executioners. Revered or feared, they cast judgement on the souls of the cursed and the damned, condemning them to a fate worse than death should they see redemption as fruitless.

Darkness incarnate, their mists encircled the atmosphere of doomed planets and filled the hollows of the earth. Fated to pursue the transgressions of mortals, they would not rest until the penalty was dealt, and the sinners would succumb to the inevitability of man.

No one knew whether they would be truly free once judgement was cast, for eternity was not something afforded to them. They were not welcome in the afterlife, there was no Heaven or Hell or even a limbo - they just weren't.

It had been this way since the dawn of existence. A delicate balance upheld by Kais and Destroyers alike. It was not challenged, no one dared question - except perhaps for the condemned. For before creation, comes destruction.

The abyss bristled with an insatiable hunger, as the reaper came to tear their souls from their bodies and cast them out into the wicked jaws of oblivion.

This time, the demon had presented itself as a newly turned sixteen year old boy.

"P-Please, my Lord. I-I beg you! I-I have a family ARGH - !"

Violet particles burst forth as he walked, heavy boots trudging through the thick hedges of long grass. The emerald blades rapidly wilted and died as he passed, creating a literal path of death in his wake.

Each step he took sent deadly aftershocks cascading out over the planet. Green fields full of bright flowers became brown and barren, moisture sucked from the now hardened earth. Acres of giant trees rotted, bountiful leaves dried up and withered before falling like ash in the wind.

The entire world was slowly dying around him, and several villagers cried out to him in vain before they too soon succumbed to the Destruction.

He did not speak, though he had to force himself to look them in the eye as he dutifully performed his task.

It was a kindness, really, Whis had told him.

The plague pits were already overflowing on this world much like the other planets in this solar system. Disease and decay penetrated the air as the bodies soon piled high.

The stench was nauseating, although nowhere near as unsettling as those that had tried to burn their victims. He couldn't get the smell of the putrid smoke out of his nostrils, nor the image of the hundreds of empty unseeing eyes staring out at him before they yielded to the furnace.

Call it what they will; an infestation, a pandemic, a curse. It had quickly spread and infected this small part of the Eastern Galaxy, and was now so out of control that the sentence had been passed down by the higher deities themselves.

Gohan had been instructed by Lord Beerus to Destroy the source of the deadly plague and everything it had infected. A menial task for the God of Destruction, but not so much for his junior.

Thousands had already died before he had descended upon the solar system that had now become nothing but a festering hovel of pestilent worlds. Merely extinguishing lives would not stop the infestation, everything had to go. The disease had not only passed from people to animals, but had gnawed its way through the very crust of the earth itself and feasted upon the planets core - contaminating all in its path.

It had infected nine worlds in total and should it spread any further, the balance of the seventh universe would be in danger.

Bodies and souls crumbled into nothingness before him. He could hear them all crying, dying before he came across yet another village. Screams rattled harshly against his eardrums, raspy and off pitch, for the villagers already had fallen victim to the plague.

Blood foamed at their gaping mouths as they begged him to spare them, but it was far too late. He could see the disease clearly from where he stood, veins stark and blackened against pale grey skin. It ran from beneath the sweeping cloths that made up their clothes and all the way up their necks, inching its way towards their eyes and mouths like long probing fingers of death.

Vibrant purple light cast shadows over his stoic features, his dark aura of Destruction obliterating several small children who lay already dead or dying in the middle of the street - their parents long gone.

He closed his eyes as their souls became wisps of air, halting in his tracks as the screams were finally silenced. He breathed a mournful sigh, casting his gaze towards the atmosphere that was now marred by smouldering black clouds.

They shuddered with a surge of violet lightening, a quaking feeling of dread hanging over the planet in anticipation of its looming destruction.

"It's the last one."

Gohan did not turn at the sound of the voice, he had already felt the unmistakable pressure of his mentor's presence behind him.

"You've done well, Lord Gohan," said Whis.

H bristled uncomfortably, he could feel his eyes burning into the back of his head. It had been a year at least, two probably, but Gohan was still not all that comfortable with being referred to by his proper title. Yet Whis always seemed to use it when he was out in the open as it were, performing his destructive duties.

"I have?" Gohan replied dryly.

Another bolt of lightening streaked violently across the sky.

"I should say so," Whis replied, "With the Destruction of Planet Keres, this cursed plague will finally be put to rest, and the balance of the universe protected."

Gohan's dark purple aura hummed around them, a deadly flame standing out amongst the desolate village. Slowly, the once magnificent stone buildings began to disintegrate, violet particles rising upwards to meet the noxious clouds hanging above them.

An ominous breeze picked up around them, brushing through Gohan's shoulder length hair. A leather ball rolled in front of his feet, pushed by the wind. It may have once belonged to that same group of children he had seen earlier.

How long ago had they been kicking it around before the plague had claimed them? Before he had -

His breath came up short.

No.

Stop.

"Gohan," Whis said again, his voice firm, "You cannot let your emotions get in the way of your duty."

But it wasn't their fault.

The ball disappeared as quickly as it had come, now not even fragments in the following gust of wind. Gohan finally turned towards his mentor, swallowing the bile that had risen in his throat.

"Let's go home, Whis."

Whis surveyed him for a moment, "If you're sure, my young Lord."

"I am," he nodded, "It's done."

"Very well," he replied curtly, the tap of his staff echoed raw and sonorous over the empty world, "I daresay Lord Beerus will be waiting on your report."

Gohan said nothing as he closed the distance between him and Whis, just as the brilliant light of the Warp engulfed them. Its vibrant glow bathed the condemned planet in a final farewell before Keres exploded in a spectacular shower of violet particles.

He felt the last atom disappear into damnation as he was carried off and away from the barren solar system. Nothing remained, and he was left staring at the vast blackness behind them until the Warp accelerated and they entered another galaxy that was teeming with life. Its inhabitants none the wiser to what had happened lightyears away.

His grip tightened on the back of Whis' garb as he was catapulted through the universe. His mentor had already changed topic of conversation, reciting the menu for tonights dinner and even promising him a second helping of dessert, owing to the fact he had performed yet another solo Destroyer mission so successfully.

Usually, Gohan would have been ecstatic at the thought of more dessert - Whis and Lord Beerus had been rather strict on how many sweets the teenager had been eating recently - but he was far too perturbed by the gnawing ache that had manifested in his gut.

He knew that it was stupid, beating himself up like this. He had Destroyed countless worlds by now, and upheld the fragile balance of the universe by doing so.

But this felt different.

It wasn't about warlords or evil space pirates or greedy monarchies causing too much destruction. No, it was innocent people that had endured suffering at the hands of a deadly plague, only to be wiped from existence by his own hand. A cruel fate indeed, one that they did not deserve.

Whis had told him that he was doing good by putting them out of their misery the way he had done, for the disease had not only infected their physical bodies, but had penetrated their souls also. And who knew what horrors that would have inflicted upon the Otherworld.

By that reasoning, Destruction was the only solution.

Gohan powered down, the Almighty power of the Destroyer leaving him completely as the stars and galaxies whizzed past in dazzling blurs of multicolour.

He could feel a seed of doubt plant in his mind, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. It left a bitterness in his mouth, and he unconsciously swallowed as though to rid himself of the taste.

Whis and Lord Beerus had entrusted this task to him, after all, and he had diligently followed his orders down to the last Hakai. He had done his job. That's all there was to it.

Yet still, he couldn't shake this feeling. The sudden emptiness he felt, that was not unlike the heavy blackness he had left in place of where Planet Keres and its surrounding solar system used to be.

Years ago, before he had even set foot upon the Destroyers world, would he have followed those orders so readily? Cast out his emotions so easily just like Whis had instructed he do in order to Destroy? Or would he have tried harder to find a solution that didn't result in such devastation?

He wasn't so sure. He couldn't be sure anymore. It had been years since he had started this journey into Godhood. Sometimes, it felt as though no time at all had passed since he had died, but rarely - just like now - it felt like decades.

He certainly wasn't that bright eyed boy any longer, one who he knew would be horrified at the sentence he had just imposed, inflicted upon the innocent and the suffering.

The hero he thought he would be, and more importantly what his father thought he would be, had become nothing more than an executioner.

He had accepted that role from the moment his father had sent him into the ring against Cell. And no matter how much he had tried to reason with that monster, how he had begged him for the violence to stop - it didn't make a difference, no matter how much he didn't want to fight him, he didn't want to kill or destroy.

He had been terrified. Not just of Cell, but of himself.

He knew why his father had asked him to fight in his place. From the moment he had let the beast that Goku had seen in the Time Chamber loose, it had changed him.

He had been dealt his own sentence, and he could not go back. And it was in there, in the seemingly limitless void of space, that he realised that there would be no redemption for him.

Ironic, now that he thought about it.

"Gohan, we will be landing soon."

Whis' voice shook him out of his thoughts. He was staring at him with an expression that he couldn't quite place.

"And please do brace yourself for impact," he told him curtly, although his eyes held something much deeper, "I don't want to see you losing your balance again. You must learn to get used to it as Lord Beerus' successor."

Not wishing to perturb his mentor, Gohan forced a smile. "Don't worry Whis, I'm ready."

---

Capsule Corporation, West City. Planet Earth. Age 776.

Twilight had crept into existence as a tangible shadow, searching for lonely souls who dare to venture out into the dark. Inviting at first, casting enticing contours of violet and gold with the promise of twinkling stars to come.

But there would be no stars visible tonight. The cold night was tucked under a woollen deep-grey sky, heavy clouds reached far and wide, shielding the Earth from the intriguing mystery of what lay far beyond its atmosphere.

Yet Gohan had not escaped the confines of the medical bay to stargaze. He needed fresh air, no matter how much the biting cold threatened to gnaw away at his nose and fingertips as soon as he stepped out into the open.

A harsh breeze blew past him, bristling through his short locks of hair like icy fingers. His teeth chattered, and he stuffed his hands into the thick winter jacket he had borrowed from the coat hooks near the back door.

He had no idea as to whom it belonged to, either Bulma's dad or Vegeta he had assumed. But he was only planning on using it for a short while. The flimsy pyjamas his father had loaned him did nothing to protect him from the subzero temperature after all.

The frozen air invaded his lungs and caused his breath to come up short, hot clouds of condensation escaping his lips as he shivered.

Still, being out here was better than nothing. He felt increasingly suffocated by the stuffy clinical air of the medical bay, as well as the insistent and in his opinion, excessive coddling from Doctor Chiron and his team.

Thankfully, Dende had arrived that afternoon in order to tend to the rest of his wounds. His friend was so ecstatic to see him awake that he had burst into tears, apologising over and over for not being able to heal him straight away.

After Gohan had finally managed to calm him down, Dende had set to work. He was incredibly grateful for Dende's healing talents, for he no longer had any pain nor any stitches that threatened to reopen every time he dared to move.

Frustratingly, he still felt as weak as a kitten, but his old friend had assured him that his strength would gradually return over the next twenty-four hours. There were limits to what a Guardian of Earth could do for a superior deity after all, especially with the heights of power that Gohan had achieved.

His hot breath collided with the air once more in a cloudy haze, just as a spiral of snow flakes ushered past. The snowfall had not let up, and danced around before him in mesmerising circles before landing amongst its fallen brethren that lay frozen and impacted on the ground.

"I didn't want this for you, Gohan."

His chest tightened, even in the silent night his father's words echoed plainly in his mind. His confinement had done nothing to ease the haunting voices in his head, nor the nightmarish depictions of the battle that had put him in this predicament.

"After all, the desperate screams of your family and friends as you slaughtered them will all too readily join the others in your head," Black had told him, "Your hear them now don't you, Gohan? You remember how they begged you for mercy before you Destroyed them."

"Bastard," he mustered aloud, the crazed reflection of himself prompting a shudder to crawl down his spine that had nothing to do with the freezing temperature.

Tucking his chin into the neck of the jacket, he pushed his lips against the top of the zipper in another vain attempt to keep warm. It may have been a stupid idea, standing outside the Briefs' back door and exposing himself to the harsh elements when he had only been healed a few short hours ago. But Gohan was just grateful that he could now move around without the aid of a wheelchair.

Successfully he might add, sneaking out of his room and past the busy living room undetected.

Or so he had thought.

"Should you really be loitering out here in the cold?"

He jumped with a start, the top of his skull colliding with a hanging basket secured to the wall he had been leaning up against. Snow and soil spilled into his hair and poured down the gap in his collar.

Gohan shrieked, as the icy sludge made contact with his bare skin. "Piccolo! SHIT! That's c-c-cold!"

Piccolo snorted, unfazed by the little dance he performed to shake off the snow. "You didn't answer my question."

Gohan shivered, fishing out most of the debris with his bare hands.

"I wasn't escaping or anything."

"Good to know, though not that you would get very far in your state."

His glare intensified, relinquishing in the fact that his back was now all wet.

"Are you spying on me now?" Gohan asked, "Or did my dad send you out here to check on me?"

Piccolo scoffed, "As if I would follow your father's orders, of all people."

Gohan eyed him curiously. His old mentor was dressed in a thicker cloak to what he regularly wore, with his purple gi underneath. The long white fabric not only covered his back but his front as well. The neck piece was wound around itself several times, acting like a scarf that joined up to the turban atop his head.

It even made Piccolo look even more imposing than usual.

He had no idea just how long he had been standing there watching him, but evidently Gohan had been too wrapped up in his own dark thoughts to have noticed.

Leaning back against the wall, Gohan sighed, looking out at the rapidly falling snowflakes, "Are you going to drag me back inside kicking and screaming?"

"Not quite," he replied, a wry smile played on his lips for all but a few seconds, "I sensed you out here and not with the others, so I came to see how you were doing."

"Generous of you, Piccolo," he replied dully, "But I think you already know the answer to that."

Silence hung in the air between them, as another whistle of snowflakes breezed past. He was glad that Piccolo had allowed him some peace at least. Unlike his father, who had insisted he call over the rest of the Z-Fighters as soon as he was healed.

Gohan didn't feel up to talking to anyone, and he certainly wasn't looking forward to the fated explanation they were waiting for. He hadn't exactly left Earth on the best of terms.

Although he knew that he couldn't exactly ignore them altogether, he decided to put it off for as long as possible. Feeling the guilt and regret eating away at him as the familiar congregation of Ki arrived at the complex, Gohan quickly found that he couldn't sit still. The next thing he knew, he had taken a detour around the vast corridors of Capsule Corp., stolen a coat and had made his way outside.

He would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he had thought of taking off several times since he got out here. The only thing that seemed to be bolting him to the ground was the thought of his father's disappointment.

Gohan inwardly sighed. He really had messed up.

"You were in pretty bad shape, kid," Piccolo's words drifted through the frigid air towards him.

He averted his gaze to his old mentor momentarily, finding that his own was laced with concern and something much deeper still.

"Can't you just… I dunno," he tried, although he knew that it was futile, "Can't you just tell them that I'm not feeling well or something?"

"You're not going to get out of this that easily, Gohan," said Piccolo, "Who do you think you are? Mister Satan?"

Gohan couldn't help the whisper of amusement that spread across his lips. He remembered all too well how the old Champ had feigned a dreadful stomach ache at the Cell Games, just so that he could avoid jumping back in the ring against Cell.

But at the mention of the man, Gohan suddenly grew quiet, his mind drifting to something - or rather someone - else entirely.

Piccolo, as annoying perceptive as ever, caught on immediately.

"She's not here."

"I know that," he retorted, a little too quickly.

His hand came up to run down his face, breathing another heavy sigh. He didn't know what or even how to feel. In reality, he shouldn't be feeling anything - the conditions of his duty and subsequently his punishment condemned him not to.

Despite that, when he sensed the others arrive and not her, the ache in his chest was all too painful to ignore.

"Is that why you're freezing yourself to death out here instead of facing everyone?"

"Doesn't work like that if I'm already dead."

"Don't try to sass me, Gohan," Piccolo challenged, "I'm the one that taught you."

More silence, as yet another biting gust of wind blew past. The hanging baskets of frozen flowers creaked in place.

"She is well, incase you were wondering."

"I wasn't."

"You're really not that good at lying, kid."

"Evidently," Gohan said dryly, lifting his chin and resting the back of his head against the cold brick, "I just… a part of me thought that she would come with the others. Eighteen told me she had once, when I first got here but -."

He paused, Piccolo's eyes burning into him.

"It's probably not a good idea anyway," he sighed, "She must hate me."

"Videl doesn't hate you," said Piccolo. "Nobody hates you."

"Oh yeah?" Gohan scoffed disbelievingly, "How do you know?"

"Because unlike you, I'm not an idiot," he told him gruffly, "Do you really think you would be standing here now if any of us hated you? We could have just left you in the snow to rot."

Fair point, he thought, but he didn't let on. His dark eyes were cast firmly outwards, coils of snowfall reflecting in his iris'.

"As for Videl, you should give her more credit," Piccolo continued with a disapproving stare, "You're lucky she made the effort to turn up at your bedside at all. She is carrying your child. According to your mother, it's not exactly easy."

He looked over at that, "Well, I just thought -."

"Oh so now you think," he chastised, "Where was that brain of yours when you so carelessly wound up getting a girl pregnant?"

Gohan flushed, "I-I -."

Piccolo wasn't having any of it. "You know, Gohan, I thought you of all people had more damned sense. But I realise now that I shouldn't have just cut your tail off all those years ago, I should have castrated you as well."

He gulped, a little taken aback. Not even his own mother had reacted like this.

"I, uh, didn't realise you felt so strongly about it."

Piccolo was livid.

"Are you kidding?!" He spat, "I nearly had a heart attack! Stupid kid."

Gohan dared not speak, as his old mentor pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to calm himself down.

"The only reason I haven't smacked you into the next dimension already is because Whis told us you would be punished by some Divine Council as soon as you left," he breathed, a wisp of clouds escaping his lips, "Care to fill me in?"

"Well, they actually weren't as harsh as they could have been," Gohan explained, keen to steer the conversation in a different direction, "I just have to clean HFIL for a millennia, or at least until the Council deem is necessary."

He purposely refrained from divulging any of the finer - more frilly - details.

"HFIL?" Piccolo frowned in thought, "Is that what you were doing down there when that demon unleashed all those undead souls on the living world?"

Gohan nodded, "Yeah, his name was Janemba. Nasty piece of work. Stabbed me with a poisonous sword and everything. I really had to give it my all in order beat him. Did you have much trouble here on Earth?"

Something dark and fleeting appeared in Piccolo's eyes, but it was gone with the moment.

"It was nothing we couldn't handle," he told him, but swiftly moved on before Gohan could probe any further, "I take it you've gotten stronger since then? It has been a few months."

"I have," he said honestly, a solemn aura engulfing him all at once, "But it's not enough."

"Not yet," said Piccolo, "Which is why I think it's time to involve your father and the others. You may be leagues stronger, but the input of more seasoned warriors might be just what you need."

"You mean from old farts like you?" Gohan teased.

"Watch it, kid," he warned, "Before I follow through with my plan to neuter you."

A dark chuckle escaped him, "Looks like I'll have to face the music first, huh?"

"I don't doubt it," Piccolo offered a small smile, "But I'm right here with you, Gohan. I'll always have your back, even when you are stupid."

"Thanks Piccolo," he gave a somewhat broken smile back, standing up from the wall, "Let's go, if I stay out here any longer then you won't have to neuter me."

Piccolo smirked, opening his mouth in retort. But Gohan didn't hear his response, for he quickly found himself buried beneath heaps of snow.

Clotheslined off his feet before he had chance to even blink by what felt like an incredibly muscular mountain, he was fired across the vast grounds of Capsule Corp. Purplish white exploded into the air as he burst out of the other side of a massive snowdrift.

He was blindsided, his fumbling senses totally out of sorts as several irate shouts reached his ears.

"GOHAN!" Piccolo's subsequent roar erupted across the grounds, but his mouth was too full of snow to answer.

He skidded to a halt as he reached a frozen pond, painfully sheering his side against the ice as he went. He was completely disorientated, laying hopelessly on his back in the middle of the ice sheet and staring up at the belligerent clouds up above.

His breath hitched, as a fragile spiderweb of cracks started to creep out from beneath his body.

Oh shit.

CRRRRACK!

He was submerged. A cascade of frozen water filling his mouth and nostrils as soon as the ice splintered. His lungs screamed in protest, for nothing quite burned like the cold.

His whole body was going into shock. Pain came sharp like a knife that stabbed at his every nerve, followed by a harrowing numbness that overtook him completely.

And then strong arms wrapped around his middle, pulling him close before lifting him up. He burst through the hole in the ice with a straggled gasp of cold air. Coughing and shivering uncontrollably, failing to catch his breath, he blindly accepted the hand that was offered towards him.

Amber eyes and ginger hair shone brightly back at him against the dark as soon as he was yanked from the suffocating depths of the artic lake. The mass of copper and gold dazzled against the floodlights that had illuminated the grounds in a stark and imposing glow.

"Kratos, you fucking moron!" Makhai called out behind him, "Was there really any need to - EEP!"

He yelped, as Gohan lunged with his own strangled cry of shock. Tears of relief stung at his eyes as he leapt into Makhai's arms so enthusiastically that he sent them both crashing back into the icy pond.

The commotion had caught the attention of the Z-fighters, who had already raced out into the garden ready to attack, their Ki raised in high alert. However, they quickly found themselves fishing the two frost-bitten boys out of the frozen water instead.

Now safely shielded from the cold, and their clothes drying by the roaring log fire in the Briefs' sitting room, Gohan sat next to Makhai on the plush sofa. They'd had to strip down to their boxers for want of not developing hypothermia, and were wrapped up in several thick blankets, nursing a mug of hot cocoa that Mrs Briefs had made them.

Gohan shuddered, knees still knocking together as he welcomed the warmth that radiated into his palms. Steam rose from the china mug, unfurling delicately into the air.

The clock ticked almost agonisingly slow from where it rested on the mantle above the fireplace. The clashing flames below cast eery shadows upon the long thin handles, whose baneful tick tock tick seemed to punch Gohan in the gut with every strike.

He felt every pair of eyes boring into him, as though attempting to burn down the walls he had built around himself since his departure. They searched for answers, they mourned for the child that was, whilst judging the man that sat in front of them.

Feeling exposed, he drew his blankets further around himself.

He averted his own stare to Makhai, who he'd not gotten chance to speak to properly in the ensuing chaos. The blanket Makhai was wearing had slipped off of one shoulder as he had gratefully accepted his own mug of chocolatey goodness from Bulma's mother.

It was difficult to ignore the bubbled flesh that decorated his chest. The scar ran from shoulder tip to sternum, thin and silvery in the glowing firelight.

It was not the only thing that was ghastly about his best friend's appearance. Other than the fact that he was unusually quiet, he looked tired - drained. His eyes were sunken and heavy, the mischievous spark absent from their depths.

A million and one questions barrelled through Gohan's mind, but for the first time ever, he had no idea what to say to him.

Instead, he turned to Kratos, leaving his cocoa abandoned, "Where are the others?"

Kratos turned to face him from where he was leaning against the wall beside the doorway. He bristled uncomfortably as Gohan's question drew the attention of the others, they too having noticed that only two members of the Supreme Guard were indeed present.

Although he was still pretty miffed by his sudden assault, Gohan reasoned that Kratos had been right to doubt who he was. Black was him after all, and they had to be certain of who was the real Gohan - they had already underestimated Zamasu's trickery before, and look where that had gotten them. Whose to say that Kratos hadn't sent the wrong Junior Destroyer to Earth?

"Kratos," Gohan started again when he received no answer, "Where are they? What happened?"

Kratos beheld him for a moment longer, before clearing his throat.

"Deimos and Eris are currently assisting the Supreme Kai, Master Whis and Lord Beerus," he replied gruffly, his jaw tight with tension, "We managed to escape, along with Top and Dypso of the eleventh universe. The others.. perished."

Gohan's throat ran dry, "What about Alala?"

Beside him, he felt Makhai stiffen.

"Kratos, tell me," his commanding tone wavered as dread filled him, "What happened to her? She isn't -."

"She's survived, barely," Kratos cut across him, "She got hit with one of Perses' weapons not long after I teleported you away. She … she lost her arm."

Fast and heated, Gohan felt his anger rise.

"I told you. I told you not to do it! I could have - !"

"Could have what exactly?" Kratos scoffed, the occupants of the room darted back and forth between them, "Don't tell me that you could have prevented anything, because it was already done. Your soul was already compromised, and if you had died again then what was Bia's death FOR?!"

The intensity of his words echoed harshly throughout the painful silence that followed. Gohan swallowed his retort, the rage and sorrow churning uncomfortably in his stomach.

"Perses tore us apart out there, literally," Kratos said bitterly, the disgust lingering on his tongue, "He wanted the Z-Sword, and when he realised that neither it or you were on the planet… well, we barely escaped before New Mars was obliterated."

Gohan closed his eyes, stilling his breath. His hands were shaking, a small amount of liquid chocolate scolding his fingers, but he barely noticed.

"Where is she now? Alala?"

"W-We don't know," Makhai croaked, finally lifting his head, "Kibito tried to heal her, but he couldn't stop the damage from spreading. He took her somewhere by the Supreme Kai's orders, some ancient place of healing. It's touch and go, if I'm honest."

Gohan could barely believe what he was hearing. Alala…

"Whatever Perses' hit you both with, it's bad," Makhai continued, shaking his head, "The power isn't even Divine. According to the Supreme Kai, Perses' dad's race could summon and create their own weapons at will, as long as they understand the molecular structure or components of what it's made up of or something. The weapons attack the regrowth of cells so it makes recovery really rather impossible. Every time the wound is healed, it reopens until the victim either dies or takes their own life because the suffering is so great."

It wasn't fair.

None of this was fair. Why had he been spared when two of his closest friends had suffered?

Bia… Alala…

They had been the first ones to truly make him feel welcome when he had been brought to the Destroyers world. Alala especially.

She had been the closest in age to him physically, and he felt so at ease when she was around. They would stay up for hours after training together, just talking in the common room next to the roaring blue fire. When he had first set out on his journey as a doe-eyed recruit, he had confided so much in her about his death and his family, as well as how homesick he was.

He had even developed a rather large crush on her in his mid-teens, something that Makhai would tease him endlessly about. But as the years went by, his affection for the girl grew into a strong friendship.

They always had one another's back. And now, just when the universe needed its protectors the most, she had been taken out of the fight just as much as Bia had. It was unlikely she would be able to fight the same way, if not ever again. The loss of an arm for an archer was like an almighty smack in the face.

"People like us are destined to serve the universe," she had told him on his first night after his death, a winning smile upon her lips, "And there is no higher honour than that."

A small part of Gohan wondered if Alala would have preferred the same fate that had befallen Bia, instead of this.

"There's a reason why Perses' father's race were the most formidable warriors in the universe," said Kratos, as Vegeta made a low noise of indignation, "Which reminds me, here."

Gohan swiftly caught the vial that Kratos tossed through the air towards him. Running his thumb over the grooves of the palm-sized bottle as he inspected it, he had a hunch as to what it was.

"Whis sends his regards," Kratos informed him, "You had better drink it quickly, whatever healing you've acquired on this primitive world won't hold off the ancient Tartarian power for long."

He grimaced, hesitating slightly before he popped off the stopper. Immediately, his nostrils were hit with a putrid smell.

Makhai had already covered his nose and mouth with the corner of his blanket in preparation. But the others weren't so lucky.

"Pee-yew!" His father balked, as several of the Z-Fighter's coughed and spluttered around them,"What is that?!"

"Ambrosia," said Gohan, looking a little green as a bubble rose from the vial and popped, the smell of rotten egg and vomit getting worse, "It works sort of like a senzu bean, only it's the healing elixir of the Gods, it restores all of your power and energy immediately. Especially when it comes to your Divine power."

"Yeah, if you actually manage to swallow the disgusting thing," Makhai blanched from behind the weft of fabric, "Speaking of, can you hurry it up before we all pass out from the fumes?!"

He gulped, blowing out a haggard breath of anticipation, before reluctantly pressing the bottle to his lips and downing it in one.

Makhai gagged, as Gohan shuddered, gulping down his mug of cocoa almost like a chaser. It burned horrifically, but didn't do anything to quell the disgusting taste in his mouth.

He thought he was about to bring it all back up, but just as the feeling came, it was gone.

There was an intense pressure that filled the room as Gohan's power surged back to full strength. His eyes sparked green for but a moment, a crackle of violet electricity hummed about his frame as his dark hair stood on end, before all at once it settled.

The mortal warriors present let out a hard breath, as though they had been momentarily trapped in a choke hold. But Gohan did not let them speak, for he was upon Kratos again as soon at the foul coating on his tongue evaporated.

"So where is Perses now? What's the plan?"

Kratos stared back at him, "We don't know. We are awaiting instruction."

"Instruction?!" Gohan scoffed, "Forget that, give me your communicator. I need to speak to Whis, I must have lost mine -."

"Absolutely not!" He thundered back, "Master Whis is otherwise engaged."

"He won't mind," He frowned, outstretching his hand, they didn't have time for this, "We need to figure this out, we're already on borrowed time. Perses and Zamasu could be up to anything."

"No," Kratos said defiantly, "I've already explained that Master Whis is accompanying Lord Beerus and the Supreme Kai."

"Don't make me pull rank here, Kratos," he said lowly, getting annoyed.

A dark look overcame him, "I don't fall in line to you."

The tension unfolded, hot and heavy like a suffocating blanket.

"The Supreme Kai sent me here to deliver the elixir and to await further orders," said Kratos, giving Makhai a pointed look, "This halfwit insisted on travelling as well despite the state he was in after we managed to pull him free of whatever dark dimension he ended up in. The Supreme Kai and Lord Beerus are to consult with the other higher powers of divinity and only then will we make our move."

"If you think that I'm just going to sit here -."

"Idiot! Do you not realise the gravity of the situation?!"

"Of course I do!" Gohan was on his feet faster than anybody could detect, the blanket falling to the floor, "I nearly HAD Black, I could have Destroyed him but YOU had to get Top involved and then - !"

"Tch, don't you dare try to pin this one on me!" Kratos bellowed, "Your stupid oversight led to the Void being ripped apart! And we lost her! I lost Bia!"

"I KNOW!" He roared, the chandelier hanging above them rocked with an invisible charge as the lights surged, "I failed. Just like I did in the future. Except in that timeline, everyone is gone, and I won't let that happen here! So shut the HELL up and hand over the fucking communicator!"

"Gohan, stop."

Makhai stepped in at that moment, tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Look, I know you're angry, and hell I'm just as frustrated. But we have to think tactfully now, we can't go in there all guns blazing like usual," he words unfolded gently, although his fingers dug into his skin like a vice grip, waiting for Gohan to fly off the handle at any moment.

Still staring daggers at Kratos, Gohan snarled, "So what, we just sit here like open targets for Perses and Zamasu to come and obliterate us?"

"Not quite," said Makhai, still holding him firm, "We just have to hang tight for now. Let Whis and the Gods handle all the politics, okay? We've just got to focus on getting back on our feet."

He sighed heavily, as Gohan remained standing, stewing in his own frustration.

"The least you could do is sit down, Sparky. Just so I know you aren't going to stain Miss Bulma's lovely white carpet with Kratos' blood."

Reluctantly, he obliged, angrily swiping up his fallen blanket as he did so. Makhai obediently sat down beside him, although he perched himself on the edge of the cushion should he have to jump in between the hot headed pair again.

"So," Piccolo's commanding tone drifted through the electrifying air, "We all know that Perses has escaped, and Zamasu is on the run with him. Care to enlighten us on any more information? What was this about someone named 'Black'?"

Gohan couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes. Instead, it was Makhai that answered.

"Well, first of all - Zamasu is immortal now," he told them, quickly glossing over the startled gasps that escaped them, "Top, who is the Junior Destroyer in the eleventh universe - desperately annoying bloke, mind - he tried to Destroy him and it wouldn't work. Apparently, the Hakai doesn't work on an immortal stronger than the Destroyer that wields it. So that's a dud."

"He's stronger than a Destroyer now?" Goku shook his head in disbelief, "But how?"

"That, we don't know."

"There seems to be a hell of a lot you don't know," Vegeta snarled, "No wonder you all failed."

Kratos reared up, "Watch your mouth."

"Or what?"

"He's right," said Gohan, gaining the rooms attention once more, "It was a trap. There was no way that we could have won out there. I should have been able to see that sooner."

"No one could have," said Makhai, eyes soft as he looked back at him, but they were full of determination, "You did everything you could -."

"But it wasn't enough, was it?"

He had no answer for that, it appeared, clamping his mouth firmly shut.

"And what about this Black?" Piccolo asked again, eyeing them, "Is there someone else working with Zamasu?"

The trio were plunged into silence once more, as Vegeta growled, "if someone says 'we don't know' one more time, I swear -!"

"He's me," Gohan started, his gaze drawn to his feet, "I mean, well, he's me from the future - about twenty years according to Zamasu. Apparently, I betrayed the Gods and chummed up with our Zamasu of this timeline. No idea what happened to the future Zamasu, and as much as I'd like to think that I Destroyed him in the future, I'm not so certain. All I know is that all the Gods and Angels are gone, and nothing of that universe remains. I … as in the future me, Destroyed it all."

A mixture of shocked and horrified expressions stared back at him.

His father was the first to speak.

"No, I refuse to believe that, son," he said boldly, "That isn't you. It can't be, you would never - !"

"You don't know that," he scoffed, interrupting him. "And how could you? You've all got that same look on your faces that you had when you first found out I was a Destroyer."

It was true, and they knew it too. Their baited breaths gave him all the confirmation he needed.

Piccolo took a step forward, arms folded across his chest, "Despite the deeds you've undertaken over the best part of a decade, there is no way that you would take it that far. The fact that this 'Black' is working with Zamasu is a red flag alone. There's something else going on here, and we will get to the bottom of it."

Gohan was about to argue, when Makhai chimed in again.

"Yeah I agree, something stinks," he said, directing a small smile towards him, "Gohan Black may be just as scary strong as you are, but I don't believe for one second that you would betray us like that. I mean, I wouldn't blame you if you offed Kratos, but maybe park that one until we've won this thing, yeah?"

He forced a smile back, albeit fleeting. Despite Makhai's, Piccolo's and his father's words, the seed of doubt had long been planted in his mind, the roots already embedded into his psyche. But they didn't need to know that.

"'Gohan Black'," Vegeta groaned in despair, "What a ridiculous name."

Makhai huffed, "Tch, don't hate."

"Erm, I don't really want to be the one to address the elephant in the room here," Krillin started tentatively as the room became quiet once more, "But Gohan, I think a lot of us have questions about your uh… you know, job?"

Gohan shifted, he had hoped that he had gotten away with it. "It really doesn't matter anymore, Krillin."

Krillin frowned at his response, becoming a little bolder. "Maybe not to you, but it matters to us."

He looked up, his gaze searching the length of them, as Krillin spoke again.

"I mean, just see it from our point of view, okay? After all we've been through together, the battles with the Saiyans, Frieza, Cell - we watched you grow from a little kid into the saviour of Earth and then …"

He tailed off, the atmosphere growing solemn. His voice cracked ever so slightly, "You gave everything to beat Cell. You took on the biggest evil we had ever faced when the rest of us could do nothing but stand aside and watch. We watched you die. We watched you fade away on that terrible battle field knowing that you were just a kid - and we couldn't protect you, none of us. You didn't really even enjoy fighting back then, and you hated hurting anybody unless you really had to, right?"

Gohan said nothing. He didn't have to.

"So when you came back, and we found out that you were this God that spends his days wiping whole planets and galaxies full of people from existence," Krillin paused, his chest heaved, "I'm sorry Gohan, but it was all that much harder to believe. I'm sorry about what happened at Bulma's birthday, we all are - but, I suppose that we all just want to know that it's still you in there."

"O-Of course it is," said Gohan, blindsided by his words, "I -."

He stopped himself short, unsure of how to proceed.

It was true, after all, Gohan had eight - nearly nine - years to accept his role, and understand its invaluable purpose for the safety and prosperity of the universe. The ones he had left behind on Earth barely had a couple of hours to process what he had truly become, after that idiot Galactic patrolman had spilled the beans in the most dramatic fashion.

He felt awful, truly terrible and disgusted with himself about the way it all went down. And, as they sat together in this suffocating room, studying him with anxious eyes and baited breaths - he could tell that they wanted, no needed to know why.

For the lost boy was now a man; a man who had been revealed as a stranger.

"Okay," he nodded, blowing out a long breath, "You get one each."

"One what?" Tien frowned.

"Question," he stated firmly, "Look, I get what you're saying, but I-I really don't want it to keep going over and over this. Whis and Lord Beerus explained a lot of the basic stuff at Bulma's birthday, and no matter how this all pans out, you're not going to convince me to give up the role of Destroyer either."

Krillin opened his mouth to protest, but Gohan quickly silenced him.

"I've got to get to the point, if you want to get up to speed," he said, "So just ask me what you want to know and I promise you that I'll answer honestly. But let's just keep it to a minimum."

Immediately, all eyes averted to his father.

"Oh no, I'm good," Goku let out a nervous chuckle, hands raised in surrender, "We talked it all out a few days ago. You guys have at him."

Way to throw me to the wolves, Dad.

Yamcha was eager to get straight to the point, "Why did you lie?"

"Pass, next."

"You can't pass," Piccolo frowned, staring him down.

"Why not?"

His disapproving stare gave him a once over, "You've been confined to a hospital bed for the past three weeks. You're hardly in any position for lording over us this evening, Gohan."

He scowled. Smart-arse.

"I lied," he began, seeing as they weren't giving him much of a choice, "I lied because I knew that you wouldn't understand, especially after I had been dead for so long. I suppose that it was just easier to let you believe that I was a part of the Supreme Guard and actively protecting life, rather than being one of the sole people having a hand in its destruction."

They listened intently, as Gohan continued, "Honestly, I didn't want to face any of you at first. And then when I did, well, it'd nearly killed me to lie about who I was and why I was there. I suppose that I couldn't bring myself to admit that the lie ran much deeper."

There was a deep sigh, heavy and guttural. "I regret it. I do. Really. I regret not saying anything because I especially didn't want it to come out the way it did - any of it. I am so sorry that I lied. I was a coward, and you didn't deserve that."

The only sound that penetrated the air was the consistent ticking hands of the clock and the crackle of the furnace. Gohan's throat clogged, his gaze searching every one of them, "What I don't regret is my decision to become the next God of Destruction, because without me succeeding Lord Beerus then the universe would become imbalanced and unravel, even without Perses' help. I'm sorry, but that is the truth."

"Well uh, I suppose that brings me to what I wanted to ask," Krillin looked for his next words, "Were you really okay with… y'know, the destruction? I just… I remembered you differently, is all."

He couldn't help but feel a little wounded by the statement, but quickly shook it off.

"I'm not exactly okay with it," Gohan replied honestly, "But it's not all about genocide, It's just one of the duties that I have. I have to maintain order, attend meetings, planetary functions and all sorts - I don't just go off on a rampage of Destruction because I get a bit bored of an evening."

"Well, no -," Krillin cringed awkwardly, "I- I know that, I mean, I hoped that wasn't the case… heh."

Makhai snorted, surprising them, "Lord Beerus would love to see that. Gohan's forever getting into trouble because he thinks that he doesn't Destroy enough."

"Oh," his father blinked, taken a back by the revelation, "I didn't know that."

Gohan nodded, "Actually, just before I came to Earth the first time, I was supposed to go and wipe out this planet called Lamorak and all of its neighbouring worlds. It was the largest intertwined criminal network in the South Galaxy. Gangs, drug lords, brothels, enslavement, trafficking, murder - you name it, it happened there."

"But you didn't Destroy them?" His father asked, his stare unwavering as he gave up his question.

"Nope, I just talked to them and they worked it out," Gohan shrugged, leaving them bewildered.

Piccolo snorted, his lips drawing upwards, "More like you threatened them."

"I just gently reminded them of their impending doom."

Makhai let out a halfhearted chuckle beside him, and a couple of amused smirks broke through the tension, but it didn't disappear completely.

"Um, excuse me?" Came a small voice, "I have a question if that's alright."

Gohan whipped his head around, as Dende gave him a small smile from across the room. He had stuck around after healing him earlier, but had remained silent throughout this entire exchange. The staff of Earth's guardian, passed down from Kami to him, rested at his side as he stood to address him.

"Of course, Dende," he told his old friend, "What do you want to know?"

"Have you been happy?"

He hesitated, as Vegeta let out a growl of irritation from across the room.

"Oh for fuck sake," he started, "What kind of a question is that?"

"A good one," said Goku, smiling widely.

Gohan paused, "Well, yeah, I have. I have been happy."

"I'm glad," said Dende, the golden reflections of the embers dancing in his dark iris', "I can't think of anyone who deserves happiness more than you."

He wasn't sure if Dende knew of the conversation he'd had with his father a few days ago, what with him being the Guardian of Earth and all. Either way, he had reiterated pretty much the same words to him as Goku did.

He knew he had said it to be kind, but all Gohan felt was a deep rooted sadness swell within him.

He had been happy, but now …

"Dinner's ready!"

Mrs Briefs chose that moment to pop her head around the living room door, though she was startled by the serious stares she received.

"Oh! I'm sorry dears, I couldn't hear Gohan shouting anymore so I thought you were finished! Do you need some more time? I can always put the food under the hot plate -."

"Dinner sounds great!" Goku beamed, clapping his hands together in a futile attempt to rid the air of the dark undertone, "Thanks Mrs Briefs, we'll be right out."

"Okie dokie!" She smiled, sauntering off, "I'll just go and grab Bulma. She's been holed up in that lab all day you know, I told her that she shouldn't be doing so many long hours in her condition, but will she listen to her mother…?"

Gohan heard Vegeta mumble something along the lines of 'idiot woman, overworking herself' before following her out of the door.

The Z-fighters, along with Kratos, took their leave soon after, yet he and Makhai stayed behind to change. Gohan was glad to find that Piccolo had left out a small pile of t-shirts and gi trousers for him. He picked out a white shirt and grey bottoms, dressing in silence as Makhai finished drying off his clothes with a final gust of Ki from his palm.

"Well, that was interesting," said Makhai, pulling his sash tight around his waist, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," said Gohan from the sofa, his gaze lingering at the scar marring Makhai's torso as he pulled on a pair of socks.

It looked even worse now that he was standing directly in front of him, the harsh glare of the firelight illuminating the way the thickened skin slashed haphazardly over his muscles. It circled up and over his shoulder and back, curling at the neck from where Black had dealt the deadly strike that would haunt Gohan for years to come.

Makhai stopped shaking his ceremonial garb free of soot. "Has anyone ever told you how awful at lying you are?"

"Multiple."

"Well then," he pressed, "Why do you continue to do it when you know that it's never going to fool anyone? Especially me."

Gohan was silent, as Makhai unconsciously smoothed his hand over the ugly scar on his neck.

"It was rough," he started, answering Gohan's question before he could even bring himself to form the words on his tongue, "And I mean really awful. Luckily the Supreme Kai managed to find me before I disappeared from existence. Kibito healed me right up, but that place…"

He gave an involuntary shudder, before continuing, wapping the light blue coat around himself, "I had no idea where I wound up, but it was somewhere really shitty. Almost reminded me of the Demon Realm, only worse. I'm going to be honest, not exactly my finest moment. But hey, I'm still here, right?."

"But Makhai," Gohan croaked, guilt gnawing at his insides, "I should have -."

"It wasn't your fault," he shook his head, ginger bangs sweeping his eyes, "Look, Bia and Alala may not have come out of that shit storm unscathed, but we did. We can't start feeling bad for them, for anyone. It's not worth it. What we can do is wise up, put on our big boy pants and find a way to put an end to this."

He swallowed hard, as Makhai gave him a small yet determined grin.

"So, are you with me on this, short stuff? Or am I going to have to swallow what's left of my pride and make Kratos my best friend instead? Actually, scratch that, I'd rather your less gorgeous self have a good go at slicing me in half again."

Gohan snorted darkly, blinking back the wetness that breached the corners of his eyes, "Definitely not."

"Good answer," said Makhai, the ghost of a half smile lingering on his lips as he linked arms with him. "Now let's go and get some grub before your dad and Vegeta eat everything. I heard a whisper that there might be something alcoholic served. I could use a stiff drink, and you look like you could do with one too - can you still drink without a spleen?"

Even though he was trying his best to cheer him up, Makhai's words felt empty. And that emptiness lay heavy on his shoulders as they walked through the halls of Capsule Corp. It was dark now, their reflections stark against the blackened windows as they entered the Briefs' second sitting room come dining area.

Platters among platters of delicious Earth foods greeted them, tantalising aromas wafting towards them in glorious waves. But Gohan didn't feel much like eating, the chatter around him held a sombre undertone. He could see it clearly through the forced smiles and friendly gestures.

The Z-Fighters were dotted around the place, either sat on sofas or at tables with their plates. He caught sight of Eighteen sat next to Krillin with Marron on her lap, both of them baring serious expressions. He didn't see Trunks or Goten anywhere, but felt their energies further along the complex - they must be playing in Trunks' room or something.

He spotted Kratos, who looked to be in deep conversation with his father, speaking in a hushed manner that immediately struck him with unease. They met his eyes, and Gohan immediately looked away and out of the window closest to him, where the glow of solar lighting lit up the small courtyard right outside.

Makhai caught the exchange too. "Well, that's not a good sign. You'd better step in there before Kratos says something less than redeeming. Wouldn't want any more family feuds leading to disaster."

He didn't respond, as Gohan felt as though he had been plunged back into that frozen lake. The walls quickly closed in, suffocating. It was suddenly that much harder to breathe.

His brain, however, was running a mile a minute and spewed forth unfiltered thoughts before he could wrap his head around them.

She was huge.

Uncomfortably so. The way that great bowling ball of a belly hung from her petite frame looked awkward and unnatural. He couldn't tear his eyes away, or see anything else other than that, the swollen imposing mass that stretched her shirt so taught that he could see the outline of her belly button. Her winter coat didn't even pull around it, one button straining just underneath her bosom, leaving the rest exposed.

He felt sick as he stared past the icy window pane, as Videl walked - waddled - up the path outside, his mother close behind her. Chi-Chi's hands were poised, armed to steady her incase she slipped on a patch of snow.

He could almost hear the shrieks of protest from her hips from beyond the glass, bones and ligaments stretching and creaking in place as she moved. It looked like it took quite some effort, and a part of Gohan wondered if she would ever manage to get back up again if she did fall.

He had once overheard his mother telling Bulma how radiant she looked when pregnant with Trunks. Glowing was the term she had used. But from what Gohan could see, Videl looked exhausted and puffy. The only part of her that glowed was the sheen of sweat that lingered on her brow.

He had ruined her.

The thought came at him with a hot and venomous strike to the heart. Hatred, towards himself, threatened to consume him as it rose like bile in his throat. For all he could see in that moment was the girl that he had fucked up and left, burdened with something that he could never share the weight of.

Videl had never told him that she wanted to be a mother, nor did she express any opposition to becoming one. It wasn't something they had spoken about in the fleeting moments they had shared together, for they never saw a need to.

Yet here she was, with only a pane of glass between them and feeling further away than ever before. She was willingly growing the life they had unknowingly created together and Gohan realised that he was not the only one who had made a sacrifice.

What Videl had told him was that she wanted to be a police detective, the best that Orange Star City ever had. He had never considered just how difficult that would be to achieve as a single mother until now, seeing her like… this.

Reality walloped him in the face - would she even get to train with his dad anymore?

Her drive for the fight, the passion she showed to improve and hone her martial arts skills was something that had first drew him to her. Dazzled him. And yet…

She certainly couldn't now, that was more than obvious. Her body barely allowed her to move, let alone fight, and with Perses and his growing entourage roaming the stars, he had left her completely defenceless. She wouldn't stand a chance.

"Speaking of disasters," Makhai mustered wearily, following his stare before clapping him on the shoulder, "I'm just going to er… make myself scarce before this gets even more awkward. Oi, Vegeta, this is your house right? Do you have any more of that brand-dee?!"

He let him bound away without uttering a single sound, still rooted to the spot.

He could not tear his gaze away as Doctor Chiron suddenly appeared through a pair of sliding doors and greeted the pair. Videl said something which made the old man chuckle, his breath filtering into the cold air as he stepped aside to allow her passage.

She gave Doctor Chiron a weary smile, and a terrible ache encompassed him. There was a time when he would have given anything to see her smile again. But now, the passion between them had cooled in the same way that frost covered the Earth.

His mother caught his gaze not a second later.

Dark eyes locked and Chi-Chi's mouth dropped, her pale reflection downright horrified as she realised he had seen them.

"Stop what your doing everyone! I've done something brilliant!"

Bulma's sudden shout caught him unawares. She was beaming from ear to ear as she took centre stage in the middle of the room, holding some sort of flat and rounded device high above her head in triumph.

Gohan turned back to the window, but it was too late. They were gone.

He briefly wondered if he had imagined it. Yet, the unsettling nausea still lingered.

"Hello! Earth to Gohan?!"

"S-Sorry, Bulma," he mustered, snapping back to attention, "You were you saying?"

She let out an exasperated sigh, not even attempting to hide her annoyance as she gestured to the gadget in her hands.

It was around the size of her face, with two white handles set either side of a circular screen. The screen itself was tempered a dark green, pale yellow lines running up and across in a grid-like fashion. Almost like -

"Is that a dragon radar?" Yamcha asked, spotting the similarity just like Gohan had.

Bulma giggled, wagging a finger, "Not just any dragon radar. The old model was only able to detect the dragonballs across planets, this one can track them across a whole universe!"

Gohan was just as amazed as everyone else, "Y-You mean, you actually did it? You're telling me that you can track down the Super Dragonballs with that radar?!"

"Oh please Gohan, was there really any doubt?" She winked, "Besides, you and Videl were the ones that gave me the idea to try it out."

The mere mention of the girl prompted the damning thoughts to spring into the forefront of his mind yet again. He wasn't sure if Bulma realised her mistake, but his father certainly did.

Goku's head snapped towards him so fast he could have sworn it had caused him whiplash. But Gohan did not raise his stare to meet his concerned one, purposely holding Bulma's gaze instead.

"I have to admit that I wasn't sure if I could replicate the original one on as big a scale as you needed," she admitted, "But even after you left, I didn't give up. Zamasu has the rest of those balls, right? As long as we can get a hold of the last one then he can't make whatever wish he and Perses are planning."

"But how do we know that he hasn't already got the last Super Dragonball?" Krillin piped up worriedly, "Sorry to say Bulma, but all your hard work could have been for nothing."

"I disagree," said Kratos, stepping forwards, "If the enemy had made a wish on the Divine Dragon then we would know about it. Either Zamasu doesn't know where it is, or they are biding their time to make the wish."

"Either way, we'll have a lead," said Gohan, a sudden fire igniting in his belly, "Zamasu knows that we know he has them in his possession, so he'll be keeping them close no doubt. We find the balls, we find where he, Perses and Black are hiding."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Kratos warned, "We will need clearance for this. We cannot formulate a plan without our superiors, especially if you want to use mortal methods."

"Oh rules 'shmules, Kratos," Makhai interjected with a scoff, swirling a glass tumbler of brown liquid in hand, "The books out the window as far as I'm concerned - the multiverse is in chaos! At this rate, anything goes."

"We will wait for Master Whis, and I will not disturb him - they could be with the Grand Priest for all we know - !"

"But we don't know, do we? So where's the harm in using the mortals toy whilst we wait - ?"

"And just what makes you think that you three divine imbeciles can use that radar without consulting us first?" Vegeta had stood down long enough whilst they had been arguing, and now it appeared he had reached his limit.

An angered snarl flew from his lips, his hardened glare jumping between them. "My wife made that Dragonball tracker by her own hand. Gods, divine entities or not - I don't give a shit who you are. You're delusional if you think that you're going to just use her for her intelligence and disappear into space never to be seen again."

"Naw, Vegeta," Bulma gushed, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle, "Even though I'm quite capable of sticking up for myself, I love it when you go all macho on me."

Vegeta's face was on fire as he shoved her off - albeit gently due to the small baby bump nestled in between them, "Don't get the wrong idea, woman! I'm just saying that they aren't going to fuck off into space to fight a battle they have no hope of winning without me. I'm going to fight, whether he likes it or not."

Gohan sighed, as his steely eyes fixated on him. He was just waiting for something like this to come up.

"Vegeta, I've told you before, I'm not involving any of you. I can't, I'm sorry. I won't take that risk."

"What risk is there when literally everything is at stake?" He guffawed, "You regard yourself far too highly! Did you develop a saviour complex the last time you were on this god forsaken mud ball?! Because it seems like all that blasted paraphernalia and fame has gone to your damned head!"

"I just don't want you to die!" Gohan argued, "Any of you! It's what I died for, remember?!"

"What I don't remember is you being this fucking dense," he spat, "You lose, and then what?! I'll accept my fate as long as I have a say in it. I refuse to die a coward, I won't allow it."

Gohan was beside himself, "I can't let you all get wiped out by that monster! I won't!"

"My wife, my radar. Take it or leave it."

"Damn it, Vegeta! The universe is in danger - !"

"You mean the universe that we all live in too?" Tien spoke up, he did not look impressed. "Don't we have a right to defend it just as much as the Gods do?"

"Yeah!" Yamcha spouted, "Don't we get a say in how this all pans out? I mean, come on, we deserve to protect our home!"

"That's not what I'm saying -."

"Listen Gohan, I don't like this either," Krillin interjected, searching carefully for his words, "But I think this goes beyond what you want or think that we can handle. I mean, we might not be as powerful as you are, some of us won't even stand a chance. But that doesn't been that we won't go down fighting. If there's something, anything that we can do, then we will."

"He's right," Piccolo stated before he could speak, "We already decided that we would find a way to help you face this long before you crash landed back on Earth. You should think long and hard about involving us in whatever plan you come up with. It's not going to be easy."

"But, Piccolo -."

"We're a team," said Krillin, nodding along boldly, "Have been before you were even born, kiddo. You're a part of that - us, no matter what's happened. All you have to do is let us in."

"If someone wants to destroy the multiverse, then we want to make them work for it," said Piccolo, both of them standing across from him now, "And let's face facts - it sounds like you're going to need all the help you can get."

Gohan bit his lip, conflicted.

His father strode forwards and closed the gap between them before he could move away. A strong calloused hand came to rest on his shoulder, and with it, the weight of responsibility came crushing down on top of him too.

"Son," Goku mustered, his voice was steady and firm, "You know as well as I do that great strength can come from the most unexpected of places. And as long as there are those wiling to stand across from evil to oppose it, there is still a chance to win."

The longer his hand remained, the more he found the tension in his chest ease. It didn't disappear altogether, the stakes were far too high for that. Yet it was as though his father's fingers had some sort of magic within them, sucking the imposing mass of the universes' fate through the fabric of his t-shirt, where it crept willingly upon his own shoulders.

For a moment, he was taken back in time to the dusty planes of the northern wastes, the high sun prickling unpleasantly at his skin and the remnants of burning Ki wafting into his nose. Instead of looking across at his father, he was staring upwards. And instead of him, it was Gohan who had taken the weight of the world, before meeting his maker.

"The power of one, if fearless and focussed is formidable," Whis had once told him and the other recruits after his very first mission, one where he had saved Alala from the stomach of a ten-thousand toothed beast, "Though the power of working together, is far greater."

"So what do you say?" A determined smile broke through the seriousness of Goku's gaze, spreading over his lips, "Or do ya need some more convincing?"

Gohan wasn't sure what he was getting at, though he recognised the spark of excitement in his eyes immediately.

"I thought you said that you were going to save it for when we needed it Kakarot," Vegeta grunted, peeking his interest.

"Nah, now's a good a time as any!"

"Save what?" Gohan quirked, unnerved, as his father's grin grew even wider.

He was clearly fired up, but gave him nothing to go on, and turned to Bulma, "Hey, Bulma. Did you get those shields back up and running?"

"Of course I did," she retorted, a little sharply, "Although if you and Vegeta break the system again then you'll have to find another way to train without destroying the planet. I'm too pregnant to keep rewiring the grid every time you Saiyans decide to try and kill each other."

Oblivious to her plight, Goku beamed, "Thanks, Bulma! You're the best!"

"I know."

With that, he raced out of the room without another word, Vegeta trudging moodily behind him.

Curious, Gohan followed them out into the dark grounds of the complex, where he was immediately greeted by the biting chill of the frigid air.

A vibrant, yellowish light sprang sharply over the heavy patch of snow that covered the ground. Crystals of ice sparkled back at them, illuminating the mass of footprints that lay imbedded within the white abyss. Occasionally, there was a twinkle of violet that caught Gohan's eye, yet the purplish hue seemed to have dissipated somewhat overtime.

Piccolo and the others trekked out not a moment later, flanking him. The majority had stopped along the way to pull on their coats - wisely too. Gohan had forgotten to arm himself in his haste to chase after his father and Vegeta.

Suddenly, he felt a warmth wrap around his arms and back, hugging his torso and resting upon his shoulders. He turned, shooting Piccolo a small yet grateful smile as the silvery light disappeared from beneath his fingertips.

Tucking his hands into his new coat pockets, Gohan raised an eyebrow as he looked towards his father and Vegeta. They were stood a ways off, his father looking rather… smug? He couldn't quite tell. Either way, he didn't seem all that bothered or affected by the cold, wearing nothing but his usual orange and blue gi, and an animated smile on his face.

Vegeta just looked annoyed. However, it could have just been his face, it was Vegeta.

"So," Goku was buzzing, rocking on the balls of his feet, "Vegeta and I did a liiiiiiittle bit of training whilst you were gone. And I think you'll be pretty impressed to see what we've come up with."

Vegeta's eye twitched, "I wouldn't call spending three years in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber with you a little training, Kakarot. For me, it was hell."

"Aw don't be like that," he pouted, "I didn't know that you were so picky about wearing clothes all of the time."

"SHUT UP!"

"I'm just saying that it got hot in there is all, you didn't have to be such a prude about it."

Thankfully, Piccolo loudly cleared his throat, "Don't you have something to show Gohan, Goku?"

"That's right," said Vegeta, his cheeks the colour of beetroot, "So let's hurry it up before we all freeze to death. At this rate Perses won't get to throw a punch."

"Wait a minute," Gohan remarked with a frown, "You spent three years in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber? But how - ? I thought the limit was two?"

"It used to be," said Dende, "It took Mister Popo and myself a lot of hard work, but we managed to push the restrictions of the time limit to three days out here, and three years inside. I wasn't sure that it would work, but Goku and Vegeta were quite insistent that they needed longer to train, and well - I didn't want them to get trapped."

"What's a Hypertrophic Lime Chamber?" Makhai asked, allowing Dende to explain the inner workings of the mysterious realm to him and Kratos.

An unpleasant shudder crawled over his skin. He remembered how terrible that place was when he and his father had spent just under a year in there before facing Cell. Scorching desert heat the one moment and battering blizzards the next, not to mention the bright iridescent white aurora that stretched every part of the place with seemingly no end nor beginning. Just an infinite empty void.

He had no idea how his father and Vegeta had managed three whole years. But the question on his mind right now was why on earth they had felt the need to. Something didn't add up. And Gohan was immediately suspicious.

The look on his face just about sent Goku giddy.

"Power up the shields, Bulma," he called, giving Gohan a wink, "You might want to stand back."

As soon as the solid golden sphere engulfed the trio and most of the surrounding area, Goku's Ki rose.

It spiked alarmingly fast, the abrupt change in the atmosphere sent a barrage of lighting bolts rippling across the dark sky. At first, it felt as though he was about to tap into Super Saiyan, but Gohan felt him reach for something else within his power as the wind picked up around them.

Clumps of frozen mud and snow encircled Goku like a tornado, a deep and guttural yell tore from his throat. His hair stood on end as a mighty charge sizzled over his frame. There was a flash of startling red, stark and bright, casting garish shadows over the dome of the shield.

And that was when Gohan caught it. The spark of divine energy that intermingled with his father's Ki.

It exploded outwards like a fearsome furnace. Amber, gold, crimson. Fire erupted around Goku's body in a blinding aura. The heat beneath the shield increased tenfold, encasing the three of them in a suffocating sauna. Flames spat at his father's feet, devouring the snow around them until it melted completely.

The rampaging winds began to settle, and dark red eyes met his, his hair a similar colour to his stare. He looked about ten years younger, leaner, and the energy coming off him was nothing sort of extraordinary.

He knew that none of the others could truly sense it, but they could certainly feel the heavy pressure in the air. Gohan, on the other hand, felt as though something was off. It was powerful, sure. But it was odd to sense the divinity washing over the man in pulsating waves.

He could hear Kratos shouting somewhere beyond the shield. But before he could make out what it was, did another thrum of crippling divine energy thrash against his senses.

The tornado of debris and fire returned, an explosion of heat and power threatened to shake the safety barrier apart. And just as Gohan had predicted, when the wind lulled, Vegeta met his gaze with the same crimson eyes as his father.

Not one, but two Super Saiyan Gods stood before him. Yet Gohan did not reciprocate the excitement that was evident in Goku's features. His fleeting feeling of hope was soon quashed by the thought of what Whis and Lord Beerus would say.

Would they see it as the Z-Fighters did? More power to add to their arsenal in the war against Perses regime? Or would they see it as another mistake that Gohan had allowed to happen? Mortals were not meant to wield Divine power, after all.

Damn the pair of them. He should never have put it past his father and Vegeta to find away to achieve what he had. They couldn't just be happy with their lot, could they?!

"Cool, huh?" Goku grinned, mistaking Gohan's silence for awe. His sonorous tone echoed over the grounds, magnifying every syllable, "We didn't know if we could do the ritual without another Saiyan after you'd gone, but luckily Bulma and Vegeta decided to have another baby… so…"

Gohan's mouth fell open in disbelief, as Vegeta all but shrugged.

"I wanted to be a Super Saiyan God, and she wanted another whelp. Everybody's happy."

"It wasn't like any other transformation we'd gone through before. It felt really weird at first, but we got the whole God thing down after a while," said Goku, "But I couldn't help but feel like there was something more to it. I could sense another level of power just beyond what the ritual could offer. So, we went into the chamber to see if we could figure it out."

He could hardly believe what he was hearing, "And did you - ? Figure it out, I mean."

His father and Vegeta shared a knowing look, a beat of tension crackled through the hot air.

A swift and unyielding force hit him square in the chest, a combined roar wrenching from their throats without warning. Gohan had never heard a scream quite like it, as something primal erupted from deep within the two Saiyans.

Instantly, he was reminded of the primal howl of an Oozaru. He had never forgotten the blood thirsty wail that plowed through his body at breakneck speeds, threatening to turn his bones to dust.

It was as though they were calling their own monsters forth, as bright white light, full of intensity engulfed them both, leaving only a silhouette. The earth began to quake, a deep rumble escaped the already battered ground, crying out in a baneful protest.

The pressure in the air grew hotter, heavier. Charges of electricity zapped through every atom, lashing against the shield that shuddered in response the to ruinous display of power. Divine matter exuded outwards, and Gohan knew that it wouldn't take much more to break the shield completely.

As if on cue, a jigsaw of fine cracks started to appear in the golden dome, darting sharp and rapidly across their heads. Finally, it shattered, just as Goku and Vegeta's screams died down.

Golden shards fell about them in a shower of glittering rain, dissipating before they hit the ground. The brilliant white shell that coated their bodies broke away in much the same manner, revealing a magnificent blazing aura that lapped eagerly at the dark night.

Divine particles lifted into the air, a somewhat heavenly calm overcoming them.

They had achieved another level alright, but even though it was staring him in the face it was still difficult to believe. Or rather - he didn't want to believe it.

The absolute power they were giving off barely registered. His father's hair was spiked upwards in much the same manner as his Super Saiyan form, but instead of being gold, or even red, it was -

"What the HELL is that?!" Was the first thing that flew from his lips.

"What do you mean?" Goku blinked, the steely ice blue gaze he was giving him softened. "It's just Super Saiyan on top of Super Saiyan God -."

"No, it isn't!"

"Yes it is!"

"It's BLUE!"

"So what?" Vegeta scowled, his own luminous cerulean aura casting sweeping shadows over the disturbed earth. "I would have thought you of all people would have found the next level. You even got a head start!"

"I can reach the next level, it's just mine isn't - !"

His father gave him a curious look, as Gohan abruptly cut himself short, "Wait, so yours isn't blue? That's strange…"

Suddenly, a loud obnoxious snort of amusement came from behind them.

"Oooh, I see what's happening here," Makhai giggled, an evil grin spreading across his lips as he threw an arm over Gohan's shoulders, "The ritual results in the same transformation but if you go beyond that, the subsequent form is dependent on what type of being you are. Theirs is different to yours because of their mortality."

He had to admit that it made sense, yet this supposed 'mortal' version of the Super Saiyan God Super Saiyan was really something remarkable. The heights of divinity that his father and Vegeta and achieved on their own was nothing short of astounding.

Seasoned warriors indeed, as Piccolo had pointed out. Perhaps it was something he could consider, but -

"Sucks that the Divine one is pink though," Makhai sighed, "Who would have thought the Gods would draw the short straw, eh?"

Gohan snarled angrily, snapping his head towards him, "It's NOT pink! It's Rosé!"

"Rosé?" Goku quirked, a little dumbstruck, "Is that what you're calling it?"

"Sadly, yes."

"Shut up, Makhai!"

"It's pink?" Vegeta chastised, the sadistic bastard was going to enjoy every moment of this, "Now this I've got to see."

"Piss off."

His father tutted at his use of language, "C'mon Gohan, ignore them. Why don't you show us?"

"And willingly give yourself cataracts?" Makhai scoffed, "Be my guest, Goku."

Gohan all but strangled him. "I swear to Zalama, Makhai -."

"Well, I want to see how I measure up to this Super Saiyan Rosé," Goku said boldly with newfound purpose, "Especially if Black can do it too."

"I agree," said Vegeta, "If you don't mind, Gohan, I want to see what my chances are now we're on divine footing. Although I doubt this pretty pink Super Saiyan will be able to hold its own against Blue."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. Challenge accepted.

With an almighty shout, Gohan transformed. Glaring beams of fuchsia sprang forth in every direction, just as Bulma hurriedly flung up another shield closer to the complex.

A vicious growl ripped free from the confines of his chest, the beast broke free of his chains and sprang from the deep abyss of his power. Black eyes surrendered to cold grey, his dark hair lifting upwards with the rush of wind before swiftly turning a vivid rose.

The shockwave that erupted with his final cry sent Goku and Vegeta skidding backwards, creating long imposing lines in the dirt.

They lowered their arms away from their faces as a rampaging violet and fuchsia aura continued to whip around his frame. Indeed, now he had brought this power forth, it was clear that there were significant differences between Rosé and Blue.

Unlike the steady beat of calming prowess that Goku and Vegeta exuded, Gohan's form was dark and imposing. The aura crackled around him like fitful demons ready to strike, burning the night away as he stood before them in a blinding beacon of torturous energy.

Beyond the shield, the others had struggled to stay standing upright, the potent pressure had caused their legs to buckle. It was as though the oxygen in the air had become thick like sludge, their breath coming up heavy and short.

"So, this is the true Divine form of a Saiyan God," his father mused, recovering from the aftershock that had swept over the Earth, "It's incredible, Gohan. Really."

"It's still pink," Vegeta spat, eyeing the short fuchsia locks that wavered in the small tempest surrounding them.

"Who cares what colour it is?" Goku chuckled, as the air popped and sizzled between them, "It's still the strongest thing I've ever seen."

"Perses is much stronger," said Gohan, a celestial delay to his voice, "Even though I was already pretty injured when he escaped, he tossed me aside as if I was nothing."

"There's still a chance," his father argued. "Vegeta and I can - !"

"If you can't touch me, then you won't get within blasting range of them," he shot back, hard grey eyes defiant. There was a pause for a thought. Both Dad and Vegeta thought themselves so strong, but they had no idea what that truly looked like.

They hadn't seen oblivion.

It was impressive, Gohan could admit, but it wouldn't mean much in the long run.

"Okay then… You want a chance? Then I'll give you one." His booming tone echoed over the frozen grounds of Capsule Corp. the raw power surging between the trio.

A damning violet light reflected in their startled eyes, as Gohan held a ball of crippling Ki in his palm. Slowly, it began to take shape, warping into a sharp and pointed blade of energy that much resembled the mighty Z-Sword.

"So come at me with everything you've got!" Gohan bellowed, determined to test them. "Because I know more than anyone that Black won't hold back, and he's the least of your problems!"

Goku and Vegeta braced themselves, slipping into an offensive stance as Gohan swiped the ki-blade through the electrifying air. The sky above screamed with a thunderous clash of lightening, and the heavens opened in flashing sheets of hail.

For the first time, they would go head to head with the Destroyer in all his damning glory. And they knew, by the purposeful look in those haunting grey eyes, that he was not going to make it easy.

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26th June, 2022

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A/N:

Dear readers,

Thank you so much for sticking with me, oh so patiently! I wish I could give you the promise of regular updates, the last few months have been tough. But hopefully as the story is now beginning to enter another arc then it will get better. I have Bonism threatening me to update every day you will be pleased to know.

I am so thankful of the reviews and traffic this story receives. I really enjoy your comments even though I might not have time to reply to them all!

I'm so pumped to get this story out there, things are taking a darker turn to what we saw at the beginning of Gohan's journey into Godhood. But Makhai LIVES and we have Super Saiyan Blue, so there's that!

Again, thanks for your patience and time. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next!

Until next tim,

ES x