I Crawl Directly Out of the Grave

[Hungry, time to eat a reader first, then start typing.]

Dragon Ball World.

Age 765.

Son Goku contracted a viral heart disease and passed away.

Age 766.

Trunks was born.

In the same year, Dr. Gero, a remnant of the Red Ribbon Army, awakened the ruthless Android 17 and Android 18.

The Z Fighters were forced to engage the enemy.

Subsequently, Yamcha, Tien Shinhan, Chiaotzu, Krillin, Vegeta, and Piccolo fell in battle one after another.

Only nine-year-old Son Gohan escaped the catastrophe because he was out searching for the Dragon Balls.

Twelve years slipped away quietly.

A certain day in Age 778.

On this day, the sky was as black as spilled ink.

Wisps of smoke rose from everywhere.

The earth was shattered, buildings were decayed and collapsed, and the breeze carried a musty, foul odor.

Looking down at the Earth from high above, thousands of adjectives converged into a single word: despair.

This was the forgotten Dragon Ball World 1.

Location: A ruin of a city destroyed by the androids.

A gust of wind blew past, carrying a yellowed scrap of newspaper high into the air, drifting toward the distance.

In these chaotic ruins, there was a conspicuous little mound of dirt.

This mound was, in fact, a grave.

Several flowers of different colors were stuck into the grave, swaying in the wind.

In front of the earthen grave, a few bananas, a few apples, and a bottle of water were neatly arranged.

Clearly, someone had placed them there intentionally as an offering.

The soil was fresh, the yellow flowers had not yet withered, and the bananas and apples were still quite fresh.

It was obvious that this was a new grave.

It was just unclear who exactly was buried inside.

"Rustle, rustle, rustle!"

Just then, a faint sound rang out.

The little mound of dirt shook, and the sand and soil on top were pushed in all directions, rolling downward.

Then, a pale hand broke through the soil.

A one-armed youth crawled out of the grave pit just like that.

His face was pale, his body covered in wounds, and he was incredibly weak.

Just crawling out of the pit had exhausted ninety percent of his strength.

He lay on the ground to rest for a while, finally regaining some strength before struggling to sit up.

Once seated, he spat out the dirt from his mouth, "Pah, pah!" and then used his only remaining right hand to pinch his nose, clearing the sand and soil from his nasal cavity.

After finishing these tasks, the youth gasped for air, looking around at his surroundings in a daze.

"Where is this?"

As soon as this question appeared in the youth's mind, his head felt as if an iron needle had been driven deep into it, causing a stinging pain that made it feel as though it were about to split in two.

"Ugh~"

He gripped his head tightly with the five fingers of his right hand, pulling out a handful of hair.

Then, he buried his head between his legs, letting out a dull, beast-like roar.

Accompanied by waves of stinging pain, a surge of unfamiliar memories flooded into his mind.

A few seconds later, the youth gasped for air, wiping away the bean-sized beads of sweat from his forehead; his entire body was soaked in cold sweat.

He had been reborn.

This was the Dragon Ball World, and he was Son Gohan.

But he was not the Son Gohan who could transform into a Super Saiyan 2 at nine years old to beat Cell to a pulp.

He was the one-armed Son Gohan from another timeline.

As he was now, his left arm was severed directly from the shoulder, leaving him with only his right arm.

There was also a very striking scar over his left eye; had the scar been any deeper, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

And all of this was the work of the Androids.

The scar on his face was left behind from a battle with the Androids several years ago.

His left arm had been blown off by Android 18 over a year ago while he was trying to save Trunks.

Even the severe injuries he suffered now were likewise caused by Android 18.

He and this woman shared a hatred as deep as the sea, a feud that could not coexist under the same sky.

This 18 not only killed his family and his friends, but she had even killed "himself."

These two demons, who took pleasure in slaughter and destruction, had massacred hundreds of millions of humans within a single year.

Had he not transmigrated here to sustain a glimmer of life for the soul of Son Gohan, Son Gohan would have undoubtedly perished in this catastrophe.

It would have been absolutely impossible for him to crawl out of the grave.

The two souls merged into one in an instant, inseparable, and grew countless times stronger in that very moment.

His mortally wounded body regained a bit of strength as a result.

"Pah!"

Son Gohan spat out another mouthful of phlegm mixed with dirt, then reached for the purified water in front of the grave.

He gripped the bottle between his legs and twisted the cap off with effort.

Struggling to lift the bottle, he tilted his head back and gulped down the contents until the bottle was completely empty.

Following that, Son Gohan finished off the bananas and apples as well.

They were offerings for him anyway; it would be a waste not to eat them.

In this apocalyptic world, wasting food was a truly shameful act.

Moreover, his current body required a massive amount of energy to heal.

These few bananas and apples were merely a drop in the bucket, nowhere near enough.

Son Gohan sat cross-legged and rested for a long time, but he never heard that anticipated "Ding!"

"Sigh, it seems there are no standard-issue systems for transmigrators here."

He sighed helplessly and slowly stood up.

As he moved, his battered and broken body immediately protested, sending waves of tearing pain through him.

"Hiss, this is too painful~" Son Gohan grimaced, sweat rolling down his forehead.

He didn't know how many bones were broken or how many internal organs were hemorrhaging in this severely injured body.

However, his willpower was astonishing; although he was in agony, it was not entirely unbearable.

The most urgent task right now was to find a safe place to hide and properly treat his wounds.

Otherwise, if he kicked the bucket right after being reborn, it would all be for nothing.

Though the ki in his body was pitifully scarce, he could still barely manage to fly.

Identifying the direction, Son Gohan channeled his energy, lifted his body into the air, and flew slowly toward Bulma's place.

Given the current situation, heading to Bulma's was the best choice.

Capsule Corp had been attacked by the Androids several years ago, and many of its facilities and research achievements had been destroyed, never to regain their former glory.

But the soul of Capsule Corp, Bulma, was still alive.

As long as Bulma remained, Capsule Corp would continue to exist.

Ever since that attack, Bulma had relocated Capsule Corp to a remote and inconspicuous corner of West City.

Furthermore, Son Gohan knew clearly that since that attack years ago, the Androids had never revisited Capsule Corp until they were eventually killed.

Therefore, Capsule Corp was a safe place for the time being.

At the very least, it was safe for the next few years.

More importantly, Son Gohan wanted to be the first to tell Bulma and Trunks that he was still alive.

Trunks, who had buried him with his own hands yesterday, must be very heartbroken right now.

An hour later.

Son Gohan finally arrived at Capsule Corp.

It was only a distance of a little over a hundred kilometers, yet it had taken Son Gohan a full hour to make the trip.

This showed just how weak he was at the moment.

If he had been in good health, such a short distance would have taken less than half a minute.

After landing, Son Gohan felt his legs go weak and his vision blur, nearly collapsing to the ground.

He forced himself to stay alert and stumbled toward the familiar gate, then knocked on it with great effort.

"Who is it?" A crisp, sharp shout rang out from inside the room immediately.

It was Trunks.

"Trunks, it's me..." Son Gohan felt as if his eyelids weighed a million tons; he could barely keep them open.

A flurry of hurried footsteps sounded from within, and then the door was quickly pulled open.

A twelve-year-old boy with purple hair rushed out in an instant.

He looked at Son Gohan, his lips trembling uncontrollably, his vision already blurred by tears.

Son Gohan placed a hand on top of his head and said, "Trunks, how did I teach you? You didn't even notice someone approaching you..."

Having said that, Son Gohan could no longer resist the overwhelming wave of exhaustion; his head lolled to the side, his body went limp, and he collapsed forward.

Trunks was quick-witted and agile, catching Son Gohan's body in his arms.

"I know, Big Brother Gohan."

"Waaah~"

At this, Trunks could no longer hold it together and burst into loud sobs, his face a mess of tears and snot.

Although Son Gohan was covered in mud, Trunks was still afraid of getting his own snot and tears on him, so he kept wiping his face with his sleeves, eventually smearing it all over.

Bulma ran out right behind him.

Seeing Son Gohan, her eyes also welled up with mist, but as an adult, she forced herself not to break down into loud sobs.

She sniffled deeply, then patted Trunks on the shoulder and said, "Stop crying, hurry and carry Gohan to the bed to rest. His injuries are too severe right now."

"Yes, Mom." Trunks glanced back at Bulma, stifled his sobs, and carried Son Gohan into the house.