The Fear of the People

Goku took a deep breath, steadying his nerves as he followed behind. He knew he had to remain calm to find a way to deal with Android 17. Gohan stayed close to Goku, his small hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides; he suppressed the rage in his heart, transforming it into a firm resolve.

The lights inside the base shone with a sickly pallor, as if mourning the tragedy. Bulma approached the console, her hands moving rapidly across the complex instruments. She pulled up the data previously collected on the androids, searching for a clue to break the desperate deadlock. Meanwhile, the outside world had fallen into an unknown panic, the fate of the Earth shrouded in a thick haze, waiting for them to clear it away.

Bulma worked the controls with focused, unwavering eyes, her fingers dancing between intricate buttons and knobs as if racing against time. The screen flickered with complex data and graphics, emitting a faint hum as if responding to her urgent commands. The table beside her was piled high with messy papers covered in dense calculations and notes, a testament to the heart and soul she had poured into this moment.

Suddenly, the instrument let out a sharp alarm. Bulma's brow furrowed, but a look of determination flashed in her eyes. She quickly pressed several emergency buttons, muttering to herself as she recalibrated the parameters. In the tense atmosphere, sweat beaded on her forehead, but she did not falter, pouring her entire being into stabilizing the machine. As she pressed the enter key with a final, forceful push, the alarm ceased. The data on the screen began to stabilize, presenting a set of unprecedented results. A relieved smile finally appeared on Bulma's face; she knew she was one step closer to success.

Outside.

The night was very dark.

Yet, by the moonlight, one could still make out the severed limbs, shattered buildings, broken streets, and ruined mountain peaks, along with countless fissures in the ground. At this moment, Android 17 and Android 18 were standing atop a very tall skyscraper. They were talking, and 17 asked 18, "Shall we have a contest tomorrow to see who can kill more people?"

Android 18 sneered with disdain, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to look at 17. "Hmph, fine, let's compete. But what's the point in killing so many of these fragile humans?"

The corners of 17's mouth curled into a cruel smile. "Haha, it's at least a way to pass the boring time. These humans are like paper before us, but watching their terrified expressions is quite amusing."

With that, 17 looked up at the moon, partially obscured by smoke. The moonlight fell upon his cold face, yet failed to add a hint of warmth. "I'm really looking forward to tomorrow's 'game.' I wonder how desperately they'll scramble to escape."

Android 18 leaped lightly, standing on the edge of the building and letting the night wind blow through her long hair. "Then let's see who can be the first to plunge this city into total silence." Her eyes revealed a cold indifference, as if the living hell beneath her feet had nothing to do with her—merely a playground for her to destroy at will.

Just as the two were exchanging words, a low rumble suddenly came from the distance, like the earth groaning in pain. 17 and 18 exchanged a glance, a flicker of doubt and vigilance in their eyes.

"Something's not right. That sound doesn't seem natural," 17 said in a low voice, his body tensing, ready to deal with whatever might appear.

Android 18 looked unimpressed. "Maybe it's just some little trick by those humans. What's there to worry about?" Still, she couldn't help but look toward the source of the sound, seeing a cloud of dust rising slowly under the moonlight, gradually spreading.

"Whatever it is, tomorrow's killing plan cannot be ruined," 17 said, clenching his fists as a thick murderous aura radiated from him. "Anyone who dares to stand in our way will be completely destroyed."

Android 18 nodded slightly, a cold smile playing on her lips. "Then let's see who can kill with more abandon in this chaos."

However, as the rumbling grew closer, a stifling atmosphere filled the air. It was as if an invisible force were quietly approaching, signaling to these two cold-blooded killers that what they were about to face would be more than just defenseless humans.

Night.

Chunting City.

In countless homes, people huddled tightly together. They looked at the television screen showing the ruins and shattered scenes of another city, terrified at the mere thought of it. The footage captured by the news showed two humans wantonly destroying a city, and even the military could not harm them.

Inside the houses, people clung to one another, their bodies trembling. Every tiny sound made their hearts race.

The dim light flickered in the darkness, and the television screen cast a cold, harsh glow. The wreckage of the city on the screen was shocking. The broken walls, the shattered streets, the lingering smoke, and the apocalyptic silence—all of it struck every viewer like a heavy hammer. Their eyes were filled with terror and helplessness; tears welled up but they dared not let them fall, as if doing so would plunge them into an abyss from which there was no return.

When they saw those two figures weaving through the ruins, causing the earth to crack and skyscrapers to collapse with a mere gesture, the fear in their hearts was magnified infinitely. It was a bone-deep sense of powerlessness; faced with such destructive force, they felt as insignificant as ants. The military's artillery seemed so trivial before them, and the fire of missile explosions was merely a faint embellishment in this catastrophe, unable to harm them in the slightest.

Someone began to sob softly, and the sound seemed contagious. Before long, the entire room was filled with the sounds of desperate weeping. Everyone knew that such a disaster might soon befall their own city, and they were utterly powerless to resist. In this long and agonizing night, every second felt like waiting for the verdict of the end of the world. Fear and helplessness washed over them like a tide, drowning them completely, leaving not a glimmer of hope.

Children hid in their parents' arms, their eyes full of panic and confusion, whispering, "Mom, Dad, are we going to die soon?" The parents could only hold their children tightly, their throats choked with emotion, unable to speak. They could only use their trembling hands to shield their children more firmly, as if that could block the impending doom.

The elderly sat in the corners, staring blankly ahead, muttering prayers for divine protection, but their faint voices quickly dissipated in the heavy atmosphere. The young men clenched their fists, their faces a mix of anger and fear. They tried to find a glimmer of survival in this desperate situation, but their minds were blank, unable to find any way to fight back against this catastrophe.