Anxious Bulma

Where the beam passed, the air scorched and twisted, emitting a sizzling sound. Before the soldiers could react, the beam slammed violently into the ground.

"BOOM!" A deafening roar erupted as the explosion detonated, sending flames soaring into the sky to form a massive mushroom cloud. A violent shockwave surged outward, ruthlessly overturning and obliterating everything in its path. The army that had been standing at the ready was instantly swallowed by the terrifying blast, vanishing without a trace. All that remained was a charred, cratered landscape, as if those vibrant lives and disciplined ranks had never existed at all.

Android 18 looked down from above at the scorched earth, the murderous intent in her eyes gradually dissipating. Her tense expression softened, and the corners of her mouth curled into a faint, satisfied arc, as if the frustration in her heart had been swept away along with the destruction of the land below.

She crossed her arms, hummed a nameless tune, and lingered for a moment to gaze at the wreckage. Her eyes held the relief of someone who had just vented their emotions, as if this wanton destruction were the perfect way to soothe her mood, completely indifferent to the countless lives lost and the tragic price paid.

Meanwhile, a television station was still broadcasting. On screen, smoke billowed through the city's ruins, with crumbling walls visible everywhere. The streets were deathly silent, save for the occasional sound of a collapsing building. The anchor's voice trembled with grief: "A certain city has been destroyed. This is an unprecedented catastrophe. We offer our deepest condolences to the victims and remind families in Chunting City to take precautions and evacuate to safe areas as soon as possible..."

Inside an apartment, the news echoed through the empty room. Goku Black sat lazily on the sofa, legs crossed, one hand resting casually on the armrest while the other popped mandarin orange segments into his mouth. He stared coldly at the television screen, watching the scenes of carnage, yet the corners of his mouth curled into a mocking smile. It was as if this destruction and disaster had nothing to do with him, or perhaps, as if it were merely a farce that brought him amusement.

He chewed the fruit, unbothered by the juice splattering his chin, and spat a seed onto the floor. He continued to admire the chaos and despair of the human world, looking like a detached bystander—or perhaps the mastermind behind it all, savoring the pleasure of his own "masterpiece."

The battle between Son Goku and Android 17 had reached a fever pitch. Son Goku's energy was clearly erratic, his stance unsteady, and it was evident he had little stamina left. Sweat beaded on his forehead and streamed down his cheeks; though his gaze remained firm, the exhaustion was impossible to hide.

Android 17 noticed Son Goku's state and flashed a smug, cold grin, his attacks growing more ferocious. He leaped high into the air, spinning his body like a propeller, and kicked toward Son Goku with a whistling wind. Son Goku used every ounce of his strength to raise his arms in defense, but the sheer power sent him stumbling back several steps, cracking the ground beneath his feet.

"Son Goku, is this all you've got?" Android 17 sneered. He lunged forward again, his fists glowing with golden light, raining blows down upon Son Goku. Son Goku dodged and weaved, barely avoiding a few, but a heavy punch caught him in the shoulder, making him wince in pain.

Son Goku knew he was in a dire situation, but the conviction to protect the Earth kept him from falling. He took a deep breath, attempting to gather his remaining energy for a final counterattack.

Not far away, Piccolo and Gohan watched the battle with anxiety. They wanted to help, but they knew this was a fight Son Goku had to face alone. They could only cheer him on silently, hoping he would create a miracle and turn the tide.

On the ground beside Gohan, Bulma was frantic, rapidly dialing her communicator. "Vegeta, pick up! Come on, pick up..." Her fingers trembled with nerves, beads of sweat dotted her forehead, and her eyes were filled with panic and urgency.

The beeping of the communicator rang in her ears, each second of waiting feeling like an eternity. She looked up at the sky where Son Goku and Android 17 were locked in combat, well aware of the critical situation. Bulma knew Vegeta's strength; if he could arrive, he might change the course of the battle.

The surrounding air felt heavy with her tension. Gohan stood by, his face etched with worry, fists clenched. He was terrified for his father's safety but also desperate for Bulma to reach Uncle Vegeta and bring a turning point to the fight. Yet, there was no voice from the other end. Bulma's heart sank, but she refused to give up, continuing to dial frantically...

Bulma Base

Gravity Training Room~

In the spacious, brightly lit Gravity Training Room, high-intensity lights made the space as bright as day. Vegeta was fully immersed in his grueling training, every inch of his skin radiating determination.

He moved with agility, his strikes and kicks whipping up gusts of wind. Each attack was precise and powerful, causing energy ripples to surge through the room as if his strength were tearing the very air apart. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, neck, and chest, soaking his clothes, but he showed no sign of stopping.

Nearby, the communicator flashed with a bright light, emitting a series of urgent beeps that shattered the silence of the room. However, Vegeta was lost in the zone, deaf to all outside interference. His eyes were like torches, locked onto his training target, his mind driven by a single obsession: to break his limits, surpass himself, and become stronger.

High above in the distant sky, the battle between Son Goku and Android 17 had reached a boiling point, the situation hanging by a thread. On the ground, Bulma was desperately trying to reach Vegeta to provide a lifeline for this life-or-death struggle. Yet, inside the training room, Vegeta remained immersed in his own world, oblivious to the crisis threatening the Earth, continuing to push toward the peak of his power.

After an unknown amount of time, the high-intensity training finally left Vegeta feeling a hint of fatigue. He slowly ceased his movements, adjusting his ragged breathing. A moment later, he walked with steady steps toward the table where the communicator lay.