PROLOGUE: BETWEEN WORLDS
The harsh glare of Andrew Slayn's monitor was the only light in his apartment as his fingers danced across the controller. The familiar sound of ki blasts and battle cries filled the room while his custom Xenoverse character—a Saiyan with spiky dark hair streaked with red highlights—executed a perfect combo against Frieza.
"Come on, just a little more..." Andrew muttered, his emerald eyes never leaving the screen.
He'd lost count of how many times he'd completed this particular Time Patrol mission, but it never got old. At twenty-six, Andrew had grown up with Dragon Ball, following Goku's journey from the original series through Z and beyond. The franchise had been his constant companion through college, his parents' divorce, and the soul-crushing monotony of his IT job.
The mission complete screen flashed, and Andrew smiled with satisfaction. His character, which he'd named Kaito, stood triumphant in the post-battle cutscene. Andrew had poured countless hours into perfecting Kaito's build—a balanced mix of ki attacks and physical combat, with a distinctive red and black gi of his own design. The character felt like an extension of himself at this point.
He glanced at the time—2:17 AM—and sighed. Another workday tomorrow. He should sleep, but one more mission wouldn't hurt.
As he navigated to the next Time Patrol mission, something strange happened. The game stuttered, the screen flickering with static. Andrew frowned and tapped the controller.
"Not now... I just bought this console last month."
The screen went black, then displayed an error message he'd never seen before:
「TEMPORAL ANOMALY DETECTED」
「TIMELINE DEGRADATION: 78.3%」
「SEEKING EXTERNAL SOLUTION」
"What the hell kind of error is that?" Andrew leaned forward, squinting at the strange text. It didn't look like the normal game font. Before he could reach for his phone to search for this error, the screen changed again.
A face appeared—a woman with pinkish-purple skin and white hair, her expression severe. Andrew recognized her immediately: Chronoa, the Supreme Kai of Time.
"Is this some kind of secret cutscene?" he wondered aloud.
The character's eyes seemed to focus directly on him. "Andrew Slayn," she said, her voice clearer and more natural than the game's usual audio.
Andrew froze. The game didn't know his real name—he played as Kaito.
"This is not a game malfunction," Chronoa continued, her expression grave. "I am communicating across dimensional barriers, a feat that is draining what little stable time energy remains."
"Okay, this is weird," Andrew said, reaching for the controller to restart the system.
"DO NOT TURN OFF YOUR SYSTEM," Chronoa commanded, her voice suddenly booming. "The fate of multiple universes depends on your attention for the next few minutes."
Andrew's hand stilled. This had to be an elaborate prank, maybe a special event for longtime players. Yet something about the urgency in her voice kept him watching.
"The timeline you know from your... 'show' and this 'game' is real, Andrew. It exists in a universe parallel to your own. And it's dying."
The screen split to show scrolls—the Time Scrolls from the game—but they looked different. The edges were frayed, the parchment turning black as if being eaten away by acid.
"The history you know is decaying," Chronoa explained. "Small errors are compounding, causality is unraveling, and the result will be the complete destruction of our universe... and eventually, yours too. The multiverse doesn't tolerate such paradoxes for long."
Andrew swallowed hard. This was either the most elaborate game event ever created or...
No. The alternative was impossible.
"Our Time Patrol agents can't solve this crisis because they're part of this reality. We need someone outside the system—someone who knows the events but has no direct connection to them. Someone who can make changes without being bound by what 'should' happen."
The image zoomed in on Chronoa's face. "I've been watching you, Andrew. Your emotional investment in these characters, your knowledge of the timeline, and your ability to see paths others miss..."
Andrew felt a chill run down his spine.
"Wait," he said, feeling ridiculous for talking to his TV. "Are you saying you want me to... what? Play a special version of the game?"
Chronoa's expression softened slightly. "I'm saying I need you to become your character. To physically enter our world and help us create a new, stable timeline."
Andrew let out a startled laugh. "That's not possible. This is just a game—a really good one with some crazy new AR feature, apparently, but still just—"
"You've always wished you could save them, haven't you?" Chronoa interrupted. "Krillin during the Frieza saga, Piccolo taking the blast for Gohan, Android 16's death that triggered Gohan's transformation... You've always wondered how things could have been different."
Andrew's laughter died in his throat. Those were his private thoughts, things he'd never shared online.
The screen flickered again, showing rapid images of moments from the series that had affected him deeply: Vegeta's sacrifice against Buu, Future Trunks' timeline being erased, Master Roshi nearly dying in the Tournament of Power.
"I'm offering you the chance to make it better, Andrew. To save those who deserve saving. To create a timeline that doesn't inevitably lead to destruction."
Andrew stared at the screen, his heart pounding. If this was somehow real...
"Why me?" he finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Because you care," Chronoa replied simply. "And because in all the possibilities I've examined, your interventions create the most stable new timeline."
The scrolls appeared again, now deteriorating even further.
"I don't have much time," Chronoa said urgently. "The connection between our worlds is temporary. You must decide now. Will you help us?"
Andrew's mind raced. If this was real—a cosmic level of "if"—then she was asking him to leave his entire life behind. His job, his apartment, what few friends he had...
But what was waiting for him here? Another decade of fixing corporate servers and playing games alone in his apartment? Another year of wishing fictional characters had better fates while his own life stagnated?
"If I do this," Andrew said slowly, "I want your word that I can truly change things for the better. No 'you must preserve the timeline' nonsense. If I see a chance to save someone who died needlessly, I take it."
Chronoa nodded solemnly. "That's exactly what I'm asking you to do. The 'correct' timeline is broken beyond repair. We need a new path—your path."
"There's one more thing," Andrew added, a sudden practical thought cutting through his amazement. "I don't know how to fight. Not really. In the game, I just press buttons."
Chronoa's expression became thoughtful. "A valid concern. You can't enter that world unprepared."
"Then how—"
"I will bring you to the Time Nest first," she decided. "There, we can condense years of training into months. Time flows differently there."
Andrew took a deep breath. "Then I'll do it."
The moment the words left his mouth, his living room began to blur around the edges. The screen seemed to expand, filling his vision with light.
"The transfer has begun," Chronoa's voice echoed, now seeming to come from everywhere at once. "Hold on tight."
Andrew felt a strange pulling sensation, as if his very essence was being stretched across an impossible distance. Then darkness claimed him.
Andrew awoke on a cold stone floor, his head spinning. As his vision cleared, he found himself in a vast, domed chamber filled with hourglasses and floating scrolls. The Time Vault of Toki Toki City.
"Get up," came a stern voice above him. "We don't have much time."
Andrew looked up to see Chronoa standing over him, arms crossed, her expression serious. In person, she was both smaller and more imposing than her game representation suggested.
"Welcome to the Time Nest," she said as he struggled to his feet. "Or what's left of it."
Andrew looked down at himself, gasping at the transformation. His body had indeed taken on the form he'd designed for Kaito – muscular but not bulky, dressed in the red and black gi he'd carefully customized.
"This is incredible," he breathed, flexing his fingers. "I feel... powerful."
"Raw power means nothing without the skill to use it," Chronoa replied sharply. "That's why you're here first, instead of being thrown directly into the timeline."
Andrew looked around, noticing now the signs of decay even in this sacred place. Cracks ran along the walls, and several of the hourglasses had shattered, their sand frozen in mid-spill.
"The temporal disruption is affecting even the Time Nest," Chronoa explained, following his gaze. "Which is why we need to work quickly. You'll need basic combat training before I send you to Age 761."
"Training?" Andrew's eyes widened. "Wait, you mean I'm going to learn actual martial arts? Like, ki blasts and everything?"
Chronoa's severe expression cracked slightly at his childlike enthusiasm. "Yes. I can accelerate your learning through temporal manipulation, but the basics must still be mastered properly. Three months of training here will feel like three days to the outside timestream."
"Three months to learn what the Z Fighters have trained their whole lives for?" Andrew said doubtfully.
"You're not starting from zero," Chronoa reminded him. "Your new body has the physical capabilities you designed for it. What you lack is the muscle memory and instinct. Besides," she added with a small smile, "I've arranged for some special instructors."
As if on cue, two figures emerged from a side chamber – a tall, green-skinned man with antennae and a shorter, muscular warrior with a distinctive flame-shaped hairstyle.
"No way," Andrew whispered, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Piccolo and Vegeta – or rather, temporal echoes of them pulled from various points in the timeline – stood before him with identical scowls.
"This is who we're supposed to train?" Vegeta sneered. "He doesn't even know how to control his own ki."
"He's not a warrior," Piccolo agreed, his arms crossed. "Yet."
Chronoa turned to Andrew with grim determination. "Your training begins now. It will be brutal, exhausting, and probably traumatic. But when it's done, you'll have the basic skills needed to survive in that world."
Andrew swallowed hard, but nodded. "I'm ready."
"No," Vegeta smirked darkly, "you're not."
Three months later, Andrew stood in the courtyard of the Time Nest, his gi torn and his body bruised but his stance confident. Across from him, Piccolo nodded with grudging approval as Andrew completed a complex kata perfectly, ki flowing visibly around his limbs.
"He's still too soft," Vegeta commented from the sidelines, "but at least he won't die in the first five minutes now."
Coming from Vegeta, this was high praise.
The training had been everything Chronoa promised – brutal, relentless, and transformative. Days spent learning the basics of ki control from Piccolo, followed by punishing sparring sessions with Vegeta that often left Andrew unconscious.
Techniques that took the Z Fighters years to master had been crammed into weeks through a combination of his body's capabilities, Chronoa's temporal acceleration, and the merciless drilling of his temporary mentors.
Andrew had learned to fly properly, to focus his ki into blasts of varying power, to sense energy signatures without technological aids, and most importantly, to fight with the instincts of a warrior rather than the button-pressing reflexes of a gamer.
"He's ready," Piccolo finally declared, looking to Chronoa. "As ready as he can be in this time frame."
Chronoa approached Andrew, a Time Scroll in her hands. "Your real journey begins now. Age 761, the day before Raditz arrives."
Andrew materialized in a wide, open field, landing in a practiced crouch rather than sprawling face-first as he would have three months ago. The feel of real grass beneath his fingers and the warmth of Earth's sun on his back felt strange after the artificial environment of the Time Nest.
He rose smoothly to his feet, automatically scanning his surroundings with senses honed by Piccolo's relentless training. Mountains in the distance, a faint energy signature of a small village several miles away, the subtle vibration of life energy from the planet itself.
Andrew looked down at his hands, still marveling at the transformation despite having lived with it for months now. Strong, with a slight tanned complexion, covered by the fingerless black gloves he'd designed for Kaito. The sleeveless red gi top with black trim, black pants, and red boots – his character's outfit now his actual clothing. His hair, once brown and unremarkable, now styled in Kaito's distinctive spikes.
"I'm actually here," he whispered, his voice carrying the deeper resonance he'd imagined for Kaito, now familiar after months of hearing it during training.
Out of habit, Andrew channeled a small amount of ki, summoning the blue-white aura he'd come to know intimately during countless hours of practice. The energy responded instantly, flowing around him with a familiarity that still carried a sense of wonder. Three months of training had made this second nature, but the reality of manipulating energy with his mind had never lost its magic.
"Focus," he reminded himself, dispersing the aura with a controlled exhale. Piccolo's stern voice echoed in his memory: "Flashy displays waste energy and attract attention."
A sudden beeping sound startled him. Looking at his wrist, he found a device that resembled a cross between a watch and the Scouters used by Frieza's forces. The small screen displayed a message:
「CONNECTION ESTABLISHED」
「CHRONOA INCOMING」
The air in front of him shimmered, and a holographic projection of Chronoa appeared.
"Good, you've arrived safely," she said, her image flickering slightly. "Your physical integration with this world seems complete."
Andrew nodded, taking in the reality of his situation. "It's different, being here for real instead of just in the Time Nest."
"Yes," Chronoa confirmed. "The Time Nest is a nexus outside normal space-time. This is the actual timeline – the world you knew as fiction in your reality."
Andrew took a deep breath, centering himself as Piccolo had taught him. "And I'm here to change that history."
"To save it," Chronoa corrected. "Look."
She held up a Time Scroll that was visibly disintegrating at the edges, the decay spreading inward like black veins.
"This contains the events of what you know as the 'Saiyan Saga.' The arrival of Raditz, Goku's sacrifice, the battle with Nappa and Vegeta. But something's wrong with the causality. Events that should connect aren't connecting properly."
She unrolled the scroll partially, showing Andrew glimpses of familiar scenes, but something was off. The images were blurry, with parts missing entirely.
"It's as if the timeline is losing coherence," Chronoa explained. "And it's getting worse. By the time we reach the events of the Cell Games, the deterioration is so severe that the scroll is nearly unreadable. By the Buu Saga, it's completely destroyed."
Andrew frowned, watching the images shimmer and distort. "What's causing it?"
"We don't know precisely," Chronoa admitted. "But we believe it's a fundamental flaw in how events played out. Some critical moment or decision that seemed minor but actually created a fatal wound in the fabric of space-time."
She looked directly at him. "That's why I need you. Someone outside the system who can view these events with fresh eyes and make different choices."
Andrew nodded slowly, his mind racing with possibilities. All those moments in the series where he'd yelled at the screen, wishing characters would make different choices...
"Where exactly am I now? And when?"
"You're about fifty miles from East City," Chronoa replied. "It's October 12th, Age 761. Raditz will arrive tomorrow."
Andrew's breath caught. The very beginning of DBZ. The day before everything changed for Earth.
"So I have time to prepare," he said, more to himself than to Chronoa. "Maybe get to Kame House before Raditz shows up..."
"Your instincts are good," Chronoa nodded. "But remember—your mere presence here is already changing things. Raditz's scouter might detect your power level if you're not careful."
Andrew looked down at his body again, recalling the strength he'd discovered during his training. "How strong am I now, after the training? In terms they'd understand here."
"Your current power level is approximately 1,500," Chronoa replied. "Equal to Raditz, though your combat skills are still developing compared to a warrior with lifelong experience."
Andrew nodded, understanding the implications. "So I'm stronger than Goku or Piccolo individually at this point."
"Yes, but power levels aren't everything, as you've learned," Chronoa reminded him. "Your three months of training have given you a foundation, but both Goku and Piccolo have been fighting their entire lives. Their battle instincts are more developed."
Andrew touched the faded bruise on his jaw – a parting gift from Vegeta during their final sparring session. "Believe me, I've had that lesson beaten into me repeatedly."
A thought occurred to him. "Wait—I designed Kaito as a Saiyan. Am I actually...?"
Chronoa shook her head. "No. The physical form I created for you resembles your character design, but you're still fundamentally human—just enhanced. Creating a true Saiyan body would have been beyond even my capabilities under these strained conditions."
Andrew couldn't decide if he was relieved or disappointed. Part of him had always wondered what it would be like to have that Saiyan drive, that potential for growth.
"I've provided you with some basic equipment," Chronoa continued. "Check the capsules in your pocket."
Andrew reached into his gi and found a small capsule case. Inside were three capsules labeled "Shelter," "Transport," and "Supplies."
"The shelter contains a small living space similar to Bulma's capsule houses. Transport is a hover bike—nothing fancy, but faster than running when you need to conserve energy. Supplies include food, water, some zenni, and a few basic items that might be useful."
Andrew nodded, tucking the case back into his pocket. "And this?" he asked, tapping the device on his wrist.
"A modified scouter that won't transmit to Frieza's network. It will allow us to communicate and will help you track energy signatures. It also contains basic information about this world that might be useful."
Chronoa's image flickered more intensely, her form becoming transparent for a moment before solidifying again.
"Chronoa!" Andrew's voice filled with genuine concern. "Are you alright? Is maintaining this connection hurting you?"
After three months of her patching him up after particularly brutal training sessions with Vegeta, of her encouraging words when he felt overwhelmed, of her sitting beside him during late-night strategy sessions, Andrew had come to care deeply for the Supreme Kai of Time. She'd become more than just his employer or mission coordinator – she'd become his friend.
"I'm fine," she assured him, though her strained expression suggested otherwise. "But I can't maintain this connection much longer. The timestream is too unstable."
"Don't push yourself too hard," Andrew said, his brow furrowed with worry. "You've done enough getting me here. I don't want you risking yourself too."
A small, genuine smile crossed Chronoa's face at his concern. "Always worrying about others, even now. It's why I chose you." Her image stabilized briefly. "But before I go, what exactly are your plans? What changes do you intend to make first?"
Chronoa's expression grew serious. "Your primary mission is to create a new, stable timeline. That means making the changes you think are right, using your knowledge of how events 'should' unfold and your understanding of these people."
The image flickered again, breaking up into static before reforming. Andrew instinctively reached toward her hologram, as if he could somehow stabilize it with his touch – a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Chronoa.
"Trust your instincts, Andrew," she said, her voice softer now. "You've spent years analyzing these events and characters. You know them better than they know themselves in some ways." She paused, then added, "And remember what we discussed during your training – sometimes the smallest changes can have the greatest impact."
Andrew felt the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. This wasn't a game anymore. These were real lives at stake – including that of the small deity who had spent three months teaching him, guiding him, and believing in him.
"I'll do my best," he promised, his voice firm with resolve. "And Chronoa... take care of yourself too. I'll make this count – for all of us."
A look of surprise, then appreciation crossed her face at his concern.
"One last thing," Chronoa said, her image now barely visible through the static. "The deterioration isn't just affecting the future. It's working backward too. If you don't establish a stable new path, even the events of the original Dragon Ball series will begin to unravel."
"I understand," Andrew nodded, his mind already formulating a plan. "I'll start by contacting Kami - he's connected to Earth's guardian system and would sense I'm not a threat. Through him, I can reach Goku without seeming like a random stranger making wild claims."
"Smart thinking," Chronoa's voice was fading now. "Kami... can verify... your story... mention my name..."
The hologram flickered violently, Chronoa's form becoming increasingly distorted.
"Chronoa!" Andrew called, but her image dissolved into particles of light before disappearing entirely.
With those ominous words and his initial plan acknowledged, her projection vanished, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Andrew stood alone in the field, the gentle breeze ruffling his now-spiky hair. He looked up at the clear blue sky, so perfect it almost seemed painted. His thoughts turned to his plan.
"Kami first, then Goku," he murmured to himself. "Kami will be able to sense that I'm not a threat, and as Earth's Guardian, he'll understand the concept of timeline disruption. Plus, he can vouch for me when I meet Goku."
It was a solid starting point. Approaching Goku directly might work given the Saiyan's trusting nature, but having Kami's divine authority behind him would make everything smoother. And if Goku believed him, the others would follow.
Taking a deep breath, Andrew centered himself and launched into the air with practiced ease. The ki control that had once been theoretical knowledge from a video game was now muscle memory, refined through hundreds of hours of practice flights under Piccolo's watchful eye.
Despite his training, flight still carried a thrill that Andrew suspected would never fade. The wind against his face, the freedom of movement, the perspective of seeing the world from above – these were sensations that would never grow old.
He executed a series of aerial maneuvers that would have been impossible three months ago, testing the limits of his control in Earth's atmosphere rather than the controlled environment of the Time Nest. Each turn was precise, each acceleration calculated, his body responding to his intentions with a fluidity that still amazed him.
"At least Vegeta can't yell at me for flying like a 'drunken space butterfly' anymore," Andrew muttered to himself with a small smile, remembering the Saiyan prince's colorful critique of his early flight attempts.
For a brief moment, Andrew forgot about his mission, lost in the wonder of flight. But as East City came into view in the distance, reality reasserted itself.
Tomorrow, Raditz would arrive, setting in motion the events that would eventually lead to this timeline's destruction.
But not if Andrew could help it.
He landed on a small hill overlooking the landscape, considering his options. He could go directly to Kame House and warn them about Raditz, but would they believe a stranger with wild claims about the future? Goku didn't even know he was a Saiyan yet.
He could try to intercept Raditz himself, but despite his equivalent power level, he wasn't sure he could win. Three months of training had given him skills, but not the decades of battle experience that Raditz possessed.
Or he could be more strategic, working behind the scenes to prepare Earth's defenders for what was coming.
As the sun began to set over the horizon, casting the landscape in hues of orange and purple, Andrew made his decision. He wouldn't just react to events as they unfolded—he would be proactive.
First, he needed information—to confirm what was the same and what might already be different in this reality. Then he would make a plan to save as many lives as possible, starting with preventing Goku's death.
Andrew clicked open the "Shelter" capsule, tossing it a safe distance away. With a puff of smoke, a small domed house appeared. Inside, he found a living space that would have seemed futuristic in his world but was standard technology here.
He sat down at the small desk and activated a computer terminal, searching for information about the current state of the world. To his relief, things seemed to match what he remembered from the original series. Goku had defeated King Piccolo years ago. The 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament had ended with Goku's victory over Piccolo Jr. Goku and Chi-Chi were married and living in Mount Paozu with their young son.
"So far, so good," Andrew murmured.
He opened a notebook and began writing down everything he could remember about the upcoming events—Raditz's arrival, his confrontation with Goku at Kame House, the kidnapping of Gohan, and the final beam struggle that would cost Goku his life in the original timeline.
As he reviewed his notes, Andrew felt a renewed sense of purpose. He wasn't just a fan anymore. He was a participant with the power to change destiny.
"No time like the present," he said, closing his notebook decisively. "Kami is the key."
With a determined expression, Andrew stepped outside, recapsulized his shelter, and took to the sky. He flew higher than before, above the cloud layer where the last golden rays of sunset painted the clouds in brilliant hues of orange and pink. To anyone watching from below, he would appear as nothing more than a shooting star racing across the twilight sky.
He pushed his flight speed to its limit, remembering Piccolo's lessons on aerial navigation. Korin Tower would be his beacon—the impossibly tall structure extending into the sky, with Kami's Lookout floating above it. According to his mental map of the Dragon Ball world, it should be northwest of his current position.
After an hour of high-speed flight, he spotted it—a needle-thin tower stretching up from the earth, its white surface catching the last light of day. Andrew's heart raced with excitement and nervousness. He was about to meet Kami, Earth's Guardian, an entity he'd known only through a television screen.
Would Kami believe him? Would he help?
There was only one way to find out.
Andrew accelerated upward, passing Korin Tower and continuing toward the floating sanctuary above. As the Lookout came into view—a massive, circular platform with elegant structures at its center—Andrew felt a moment of pure awe. The ancient architecture, the perfect stillness of the sanctuary, the very air that seemed charged with divine energy—it all felt more real and more magical than he could have imagined.
He slowed as he approached, deliberately making his presence obvious rather than appearing suddenly. As he hovered at the edge of the Lookout, two figures emerged from the central palace—one tall and green, the other black and rotund.
Kami and Mr. Popo.
Andrew took a deep breath and landed gently on the tiled surface of the Lookout, dropping to one knee in a gesture of respect.
"Kami, Guardian of Earth," he said, his voice steady despite his inner turmoil. "My name is Andrew Slayn. I've been sent by the Supreme Kai of Time, Chronoa, to prevent a disaster that threatens not just this world, but the entire timeline."
As he looked up, he saw Kami's ancient eyes studying him with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
"Rise, visitor," Kami said, his voice exactly as Andrew remembered from the show. "I sense no malice in you, but your energy is... unlike anything I've encountered before." The old Guardian leaned on his staff, his expression thoughtful. "Tell me more about this Supreme Kai of Time, and the disaster you speak of."
In the vastness of space, a Saiyan pod hurtled toward Earth, carrying with it the catalyst that would begin the Z-Fighters' greatest challenges.
But this time, they wouldn't face those challenges alone. This time, Andrew Slayn—fan turned Time Patroller—stood on the sacred Lookout, about to change the course of history.
A better one.
Author Note:
Make sure to visit my profile as I have adjusted my Update shedule.
Hey guys I hope you liked the new Chapter if so make sure to like and follow for more :).
Also I have a Patr eon Account where you can read ahead, visit my Page for more infomation:
ww (re)on c (slash)AndrewSlayn