Restoring Order

"But there is only one Original Dragon Ball..." Son Gohan looked at the Three-Star Ball in his hand, which looked almost identical to an ordinary Earth Dragon Ball, his brow furrowing slightly.

The golden patterns on the bracer flickered. Popo's ethereal voice echoed in their ears: "The Original Dragon Ball is different from ordinary Dragon Balls; it is the crystallization of all of Dragon God Zalama's power."

"Ordinary Dragon Balls require all seven to grant a wish because the creator's ability is limited, necessitating a complete ritual to invoke a miracle." Popo's voice remained devoid of inflection. "But even a single Original Dragon Ball contains enough Miracle Power within it to ignore all rules and completely reshape the causality of a single parallel world."

Upon hearing this, Trunks's eyes lit up sharply, and he called out to the bracer urgently: "Lord Popo! Since one is enough to reshape a world, can't we just use it to restore our future timeline as well?"

Son Gohan said nothing, but his gaze remained fixed on the bracer. If they could resolve it directly, they wouldn't have to risk their lives in other dangerous timelines.

"No." Popo's answer was crisp and decisive, instantly extinguishing Trunks's hope.

"Why?" Trunks asked, unwilling to give up.

"Because wishes that span across time and space involve complex causality of a higher dimension. The Miracle Power of a single Original Dragon Ball is significantly weakened when crossing through time," Popo explained. "To break rules of that magnitude, you must gather all seven complete Original Dragon Balls to invoke the primordial creation power of Dragon God Zalama. Now, stop wasting time. Channel your ki into the Dragon Ball and visualize how this world is supposed to be in your mind."

"Damn it!" Trunks gritted his teeth, his expression deeply dejected.

"Look on the bright side, Trunks. We will resurrect Aunt Bulma sooner or later," Son Gohan comforted him.

He then gripped the Three-Star Original Dragon Ball, closed his eyes, and began to attempt the method Popo had described.

The ki within him began to flow into the Dragon Ball at an incredibly steady frequency.

Hum!

The previously dim Three-Star Ball suddenly erupted with a blinding white light. This radiance held no warmth and carried no oppressive pressure, yet it instantly pierced through Son Gohan's palm, spreading outward at a speed that transcended light.

In the blink of an eye, the white light enveloped all of West City, then the entire Earth, and finally reached every corner of Universe 7.

The Miracle Power had been activated.

Son Gohan opened his eyes, and the sight before him made him hold his breath.

Time began to flow backward.

It was not a physical reversal, but a higher-dimensional reset of causality.

The massive crater below, which had been corroded into sludge by Lin Fan's aberrations, began to churn violently. The foul-smelling pink miasma dissipated instantly like snow meeting a scorching sun. Shattered steel and concrete, along with skyscrapers reduced to dust, were pieced back together by an invisible giant hand, rising from the ground at a speed visible to the naked eye.

Mountains that had collapsed during the battle rose once more, and dried-up riverbeds were filled again with clear, flowing water.

Even more staggering was the restoration of the fates of those whom Lin Fan had forcibly twisted.

Son Gohan saw that the revealing clothing worn by Bulma, Mai, Launch, and the others in the ruins of Capsule Corporation dissolved into points of light, replaced by their original daily attire.

The hollow, fanatical look of brainwashing in their eyes was rapidly fading away.

Every trace and every bit of causality left behind since Lin Fan's arrival in this world was being forcibly erased by this vast Miracle Power. The humiliating memories, the despair of being subjugated, and the dignity that had been wantonly trampled upon were being excised from the history of this world like a nightmare that had never existed.

Time corrected itself, bit by bit.

The Miracle Power washed over the causality of the entire universe.

Lin Fan, the transmigrator who did not belong to this world, along with all the filth and chaos he had brought, was completely erased and reset to zero.

The white light gradually receded, finally sinking entirely into the Three-Star Ball in Son Gohan's hand.

The Original Dragon Ball, which had previously radiated ancient fluctuations, now became dim and lusterless, looking like an ordinary glass marble. Its Miracle Power had been exhausted to reshape the world and would require time to recover.

Son Gohan tucked the dull Three-Star Ball into his clothes and looked down at the city below.

The world had completely returned to its proper track.

The streets of West City were bustling with traffic, the cacophony of horns and the chatter of pedestrians weaving together, full of vitality. Sunlight bathed the massive, semi-circular building of Capsule Corporation, refracting a dazzling glow.

A breeze blew by as Trunks stood beside Son Gohan, staring blankly at the scene below.

In the vast courtyard of Capsule Corporation.

Bulma, dressed in a professional white lab coat, held a wrench and was pointing it angrily at Vegeta, scolding him: "You battle-crazed idiot! You're always soaking in the Gravity Chamber! You promised me a shopping trip last time—when are you going to take me?"

Vegeta, wearing his signature blue bodysuit, stood with his arms crossed, snorted, and turned his head away: "I don't have time to waste on such things. I need to train to become stronger and defeat Kakarot!"

"You blockhead!" Bulma stomped her foot in anger and threw the wrench at him.

Vegeta dodged it with a tilt of his head; though he looked impatient, he didn't lose his temper, simply turning and walking toward the lounge area on the other side.

Seeing this, Trunks's eyes instantly welled up with tears.

He bit his lip hard, struggling to keep the tears from falling.

These were his parents. For the first time, he was seeing with his own eyes the noisy yet incredibly real home from his mother's memories.

"It's great," Trunks said, his voice choked with emotion. "It's really great."

Son Gohan looked at the vibrant Earth, a sincere smile appearing on his lips.

It seemed the meaning of becoming a God of Spacetime Destruction was not just to gain power, but to protect these bonds that should never have been twisted. Although this was not their home timeline, the sense of fulfillment he felt seeing everyone safe and sound was irreplaceable.

In the direction of Mount Paozu in the distance, Son Gohan could clearly sense that the Son Goku of this timeline was bickering with Chi-Chi over young Gohan's studies—everything was so familiar and natural.

"Well done, Son Gohan."

Popo's ethereal voice came from the bracer once more, breaking the brief silence.

"The first timeline that deviated from its track has been corrected, and the source of the Original Dragon Balls has been severed. Your mission is complete."

Son Gohan put away his smile, his tone returning to its calm state: "Lord Popo, where do we go next?"

"There is no need to rush." Popo's voice remained devoid of inflection. "The causality between the Original Dragon Balls is mutually attractive. Since you have already obtained one, it will naturally guide you to the next target."

No sooner had he spoken than it happened.

The golden bracers on Son Gohan's right wrist and Trunks's left wrist simultaneously erupted with blinding light.

Two golden beams shot forth from the bracers, intersecting in the void before them.

Rip.

The space ahead, fragile as a sheet of paper, was forcibly torn asunder by the two beams. A mysterious passage, shimmering with iridescent light and filled with countless spatial turbulences, appeared out of thin air before them.

At the end of the passage, a faint aura leaked through—one that was incredibly violent, chaotic, and yet so vast it was suffocating.

"Go," Popo commanded. "The degree of distortion in the next target timeline seems even more severe than this one. Prepare yourselves, Gods of Spacetime Destruction."

Son Gohan took one last look at the bustling West City below.

He did not go to greet the Son Goku or Vegeta of this timeline, nor did he leave any trace behind. Since causality had been reset, the best course of action for transients like them, who did not belong here, was to depart without a sound.

"Let's go, Trunks." Son Gohan pulled up his hood, obscuring most of his face.

"Right!" Trunks wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes, his gaze turning resolute once more.

Both men erupted with white auras simultaneously, their figures transforming into two streaks of light as they dove into the iridescent spacetime passage without a moment's hesitation.

As their figures vanished completely within, the passage rapidly closed.

Only a gentle breeze remained in mid-air, as if they had never been there at all.

Within the spacetime turbulence.

Son Gohan and Trunks traveled at high speed, protected by their golden bracers.

The images flashing past on either side of the passage grew increasingly bizarre. Son Gohan even witnessed scenes that defied all logic—such as Frieza, the Emperor of the Universe, sipping tea with the Supreme Kai, or the Earth of some timeline covered in metallic, mechanical lifeforms.

"This is!" Son Gohan stared at the growing red dot at the end of the passage, his muscles gradually tensing.