Chapter 12.5
-General POV-
The Plato crater had not been designed with sparring in mind, but from a distance, the enormous domed structure sitting within its ancient basin might have suggested otherwise. Its metallic shell reflected the hard sunlight in a pale silver sheen, while the surrounding lunar landscape stretched away in a desolate expanse of grey dust and jagged rock. There was no atmosphere to carry sound beyond the chamber, no wind to stir the powdery ground, and no living thing to witness the spectacle unfolding behind its reinforced walls.
The structure had arrived in a capsule no larger than a small lunchbox, summoned from Bardock's pouch with the casualness of a man retrieving his keys. Bulma had built the gravity chamber for training under conditions that would have crushed an ordinary human into the floor, and Bardock had made a few modifications of his own before carrying it on his person in his travels. At present, its internal gravity was set to one hundred times that of Earth, the warning lights blazed red across the reinforced interior, and a collection of spherical combat drones darted through the air, firing narrow laser bolts at two figures trying to beat one another senseless.
Diana Prince ducked beneath a sweeping strike from Bardock's red staff, pivoted on her bare foot, and brought her shield up just in time to catch a laser bolt aimed at her shoulder. The impact scattered a brilliant spray of sparks across its surface, forcing her to adjust her stance before Bardock's next attack came through. She turned the shield to deflect the staff, stepped inside his reach, and drove her sword towards his ribs, only for the Saiyan to twist away and catch the flat of the blade between two fingers. Rather than attempting to overpower her, he used the brief contact to redirect the weapon, turning his hips as he swept one leg towards hers. Diana jumped over the sweep and landed with a heavy thud that would have shattered the bones of an ordinary woman under the chamber's crushing gravity. She answered with a shield strike aimed at his jaw, but Bardock leaned back just far enough to let it pass, his tail shifting behind him to maintain his balance as he brought the staff around in a tight, economical arc. Diana caught it on her shield, and the resulting impact reverberated through her arm hard enough to make her teeth clench.
She had long since lost track of how many exchanges they had completed, and the clock mounted above the chamber's sealed entrance told her that they had been at it for nearly two hours. At the beginning, the artificial gravity had been a challenge, certainly, but not an insurmountable one. As an Amazon and daughter of Zeus, she possessed strength and endurance far beyond those of ordinary mortals, and she had initially been confident that one hundred times Earth's gravity would not prevent her from fighting effectively.
That confidence had survived the first half-hour, then begun to erode under the combined strain of the gravity, Bardock's relentless attacks, and the drones that refused to let either combatant settle into a comfortable rhythm. Every dodge required more effort than the last, every block sent fresh tension through muscles already aching, and every breath seemed to demand more from her lungs. Sweat ran down her face and neck, soaked her dark hair against her shoulders, and traced shining paths along her flushed skin. Her sports bra and shorts were thoroughly damp, and the floor beneath her bare feet had become slick enough that she had to be careful where she planted them.
Bardock, by comparison, looked as though he had just finished a brisk run around a park. His black hair clung slightly to his forehead, and a light sheen of sweat marked his chest and shoulders, but his breathing remained steady apart from the deeper rhythm of sustained exertion. He wore only his gi trousers, the familiar red staff moving through his hands with an ease that made its speed and weight seem almost deceptive. Even while attacking Diana, he continued to track the drones, turning his shoulder away from incoming fire or using the staff to redirect a bolt without breaking the flow of his movements.
He was not treating the exercise as an opportunity to humiliate her, nor was he deliberately allowing her to believe she was matching him on equal terms. Instead, he was adjusting his strength and speed to keep the fight challenging without making it pointless, forcing her to respond to genuine pressure while leaving her enough room to learn from each mistake. Diana understood the difference, which was precisely why she found the experience so infuriating and exhilarating in equal measure.
"You realise that if you keep looking so comfortable, I'm going to take it personally," Diana said, parrying another strike before stepping around his flank. Her voice was breathless but firm, and she made a determined effort to keep the strain out of her expression as she thrust her sword towards his side. Bardock knocked the blade aside with the staff, but she followed with a knee aimed at his stomach, then turned the movement into a short elbow strike when he shifted his torso away. He blocked the elbow with his forearm and gave her a small, approving nod, which was almost worse than if he had laughed at her. "I have fought monsters, gods, and armies that would have frightened most warriors into surrender, yet you are standing there as though we have barely begun. I would appreciate knowing whether there is some trick to this chamber that you have neglected to mention."
"There isn't a trick, Diana, although I'll admit the chamber is considerably more entertaining when the other person knows how to use a sword." Bardock replied, catching her shield with the staff and guiding it away from his centreline. He followed with a controlled punch that stopped a few inches short of her ribs, forcing her to turn her torso and acknowledge the opening he had found. "The main difference is that I've spent a lot of time training under gravity far worse than this. My master once decided that the best way to improve my endurance was to put me somewhere with millions of times Earth's gravity and leave me there until I could move properly. He called it a valuable lesson in discipline, though I've always thought that was a generous description of what was basically a psychotic old man's idea of entertainment."
Diana's brows rose despite the effort of maintaining her guard. "Millions of times Earth's gravity? You are describing a condition that would crush almost any living creature before it could take a single step, and you are telling me that your teacher considered it a suitable exercise. I have met men who believed that cruelty was the same thing as strength, but I would like to think even they possessed enough sense to recognise the difference between training a warrior and burying one."
"Whis knows the difference." Bardock said, shifting aside as a laser bolt passed between them and struck the floor. "He just doesn't always care about it when he's annoyed with me. I've stolen his food, interrupted his alone time, and occasionally made his life difficult for the sheer pleasure of seeing that ridiculous smirk disappear from his face. The gravity training was probably his way of getting even, although he insisted that I should thank him for the experience. I'm sure he's very proud of himself."
Diana found herself laughing, though the sound came out more like a weary exhalation than a proper laugh. "Your master sounds like an extraordinary individual, but I cannot decide whether I should admire his methods or question his judgement. If he truly subjected you to millions of times Earth's gravity, then I hope he was at least willing to provide an explanation of how you were expected to survive it."
"He explained it afterwards, which was thoughtful of him." Bardock answered, before turning the staff over in his hands and moving back into a fighting stance. "He also made me repeat the exercise whenever I complained, so I learned fairly quickly that keeping my mouth shut was the better option. Compared to that, one hundred times gravity feels like an ordinary day at the gym. It still makes the workout harder, but I can move without having to think about every muscle in my body, and I'm not spending all my energy just trying to remain upright."
Diana shook her head, though her expression held more amusement than disbelief. "I am beginning to understand why the Justice League finds you difficult to assess. You describe experiences that would be beyond the limits of most beings, yet you speak about them as though you are recounting an unpleasant afternoon with a particularly demanding instructor. Nevertheless, I did not come here to measure myself against your master, and I have no intention of surrendering simply because you have endured worse conditions than I have. If you are willing to continue, then I would like to see how much longer I can keep up with you."
Bardock's expression shifted into something more serious, his eyes studying her stance rather than her words. "That's the right attitude, but don't confuse determination with refusing to recognise your limits. A warrior who keeps going without thinking is just giving their opponent more chances to win. You've been doing well, and you're still adapting, but you're beginning to favour your right side whenever you block with the shield. Your left leg is also taking longer to recover after a dodge, which means you're spending more effort correcting your position than you realise. If you want to keep going, I'll keep fighting, but I want you to pay attention to what your body is telling you rather than letting your pride make every decision."
Diana took a deep breath and settled her shield before her. "My pride has carried me through situations in which caution alone would have achieved nothing, but I understand your point. I did not become a warrior by refusing to learn from those who could teach me, and I would be a poor student indeed if I ignored your advice merely because it was inconvenient. Continue, Bardock, and do not make the mistake of thinking that my determination means I expect you to lower your standards. I want to be challenged, not protected from the consequences of my own choices."
"Good answer." he said, and the faint smile returned to his face. "Now try not to let the flying balls shoot you."
The drones accelerated as though they had understood the insult. Three broke formation, one moving high while the other two swept towards Diana from opposite sides. She turned her shield to deflect the first bolt, ducked beneath the second, and stepped forward to meet Bardock's attack before the third drone could line up another shot. For several seconds, her defence held together beautifully. She used the shield to close one angle, her sword to threaten another, and the weight of the chamber forced her to commit to each movement with an economy that Bardock clearly appreciated. She even managed to catch his staff against the rim of her shield and wrench it sideways, creating a brief opening that would have allowed her to strike his chest in a real battle. Instead, Bardock let her take the advantage and tested how she followed it, forcing her to choose between a clean attack and maintaining awareness of the drones.
She chose correctly, at least initially. Diana abandoned the tempting strike, shifted away from the line of fire, and used her shield to knock one drone off course as it came too close. The machine spun away, its laser missing her by inches, while she brought her sword around in a controlled cut that forced Bardock to retreat a step. Her breathing had become harsh, and her arms felt as though someone had filled them with molten lead, but there was a fierce satisfaction in the fact that she was still making him move. She could not match his endurance, speed, or overwhelming reserves of strength, yet she was learning to read his intentions more quickly. He was giving her no easy victories, and she was beginning to understand how much information could be hidden inside a seemingly simple movement. The smallest shift of his heel could signal a sweep; the angle of his shoulder could reveal which hand would strike; the position of his tail often told her how he intended to balance himself before changing direction.
That growing confidence nearly cost her the match. Bardock stepped in with a feint towards her sword arm, drew her shield across her body, and immediately changed the angle of his staff to attack her exposed side. Diana caught the weapon at the last possible moment, but the impact forced her weight onto her already exhausted right leg. She tried to pivot away, and for a fraction of a second her foot slid across the floor. It was no more than a small loss of balance, the sort of mistake she would normally have corrected without thinking, but the gravity turned it into a serious commitment of strength. She could not recover her stance quickly enough, and one of the drones took advantage of the opening, firing a laser bolt that struck her squarely across the upper arm.
The beam did not burn through her skin, but the chamber registered the hit immediately. A sharp tone sounded overhead, the red warning lights switched to a steady amber, and the artificial gravity vanished so abruptly that Diana felt her body rise against the momentum of her own movement. She stumbled forward, caught herself with one hand against the floor, and remained there for a moment while she tried to make sense of the sudden absence of weight. The drones powered down and drifted towards their docking stations, their weapon ports closing as the chamber's automated systems declared the exercise over. Bardock lowered his staff and waited for her to regain her footing rather than rushing to her side, giving her the dignity of standing on her own even as he kept a watchful eye on her condition.
Diana pushed herself upright, rolled her shoulders, and looked towards the console where the training parameters were displayed. "That was the end, then." she said, her voice still rough with exertion. "I suppose I should be grateful that the system recognises when a combatant has been struck, although I suspect I would have preferred to discover the limit through a more graceful defeat. You have won this round, Bardock, and I will not insult either of us by pretending otherwise. However, I believe I have made real progress, and that is worth considerably more to me than a victory achieved because you chose to let me have it."
"You did make progress." Bardock replied, resting the staff against his shoulder. "You started by trying to answer everything I did with strength, and by the end you were paying more attention to positioning, timing, and the drones. You also stopped chasing openings that were designed to tempt you into losing track of the rest of the fight. That's a much better way to learn than trying to overpower somebody who has more strength to spare than you do. You lost because you were exhausted and made one mistake, not because you were incapable of keeping up with the exercise."
Diana wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, then glanced at the staff in his grip. "I appreciate the distinction, though I imagine you would tell me the same thing if I had been defeated in the first minute. I have trained with some of the finest warriors of Themyscira, fought beside the greatest heroes of this world, and endured battles that tested every part of me. Yet I cannot remember the last time I had a workout that demanded so much without leaving me feeling as though I had simply been thrown against a wall until I learned to stand again. You fought me as a warrior, not as a fragile mortal who needed to be spared discomfort, and I am grateful for that."
"I figured you'd prefer an honest fight to a polite one." Bardock said, his expression softening. "You're not made of glass, Diana, and you don't need me pretending that every move you make is perfect. If I think you're doing something wrong, I'll tell you, and if you manage to catch me with a good move, I'll give you credit for it. That's how training should work. You put in the effort, you learn something, and the next time you face a difficult opponent, you have a better chance of coming out ahead."
Diana inclined her head in acknowledgement. "Then I hope you will be willing to do this again. I suspect that with more time, I can improve my ability to fight under pressure, particularly when several threats demand my attention at once. I also believe that you would benefit from learning more about Amazon techniques, since our approach to combat has developed through generations of warriors who have had to fight opponents stronger and more dangerous than themselves. We may not have your experience with extraordinary gravity, but we have a few lessons of our own that might interest you."
"That sounds fair." Bardock replied. "I'll even promise not to tell you how much easier the next session is going to feel, because I'm starting to think that would be rude. Come on, though. Let's get you some water and something to eat before you decide you're ready to challenge the drones to a rematch. They don't have much personality, but they're very good at taking advantage of exhaustion."
He led her through the chamber's inner hatch into an adjoining rest room, where the lighting was softer and the temperature had been set to something more comfortable. A bench ran along one wall, beside a small counter containing towels, water bottles, and a compact medical kit. Bardock retrieved a bottle from a storage compartment and handed it to Diana, then reached into the pouch at his waist and produced a small, green bean. She accepted the water first and drank deeply, allowing the cool liquid to settle her breathing while she watched him inspect the bean as though he were deciding whether it was fit for consumption. Its appearance was so unimpressive that she briefly wondered whether he intended to make a joke at her expense, but then she remembered where she'd seen such a legume before.
"It's that bean." Diana said, lowering the bottle. "That mysterious legume miracle that heals all wounds suffered under battle and restores stamina and vitality. You gave them to us after our first battle."
"It's a senzu bean," Bardock explained, tossing it lightly between his fingers before offering it to her. "I suppose I've never truly explained it before. Eat it, and you'll recover from the fatigue you've built up during the workout. It'll restore your energy and help your body recover from the strain, although it won't help diseases. If you'd taken a serious wound, I'd probably have to find you a bigger one. But in your case, you're mostly exhausted, so a smaller one should get you back to normal before we leave the chamber."
Diana regarded the bean for another moment, then ate it. The taste was surprisingly mild, crunchy almost like a fresh vegetable, and the effect began the moment she'd finished swallowing. Warmth spread through her body, followed by a sudden sense of renewed strength that seemed to reach into every tired muscle. The tension drained from her arms, the ache in her legs faded, and her breathing settled into a comfortable rhythm. Even the soreness in her shoulders, which she had expected to linger for the rest of the day, disappeared as though it had never existed. She straightened slowly, flexed her fingers, and looked at Bardock with a mixture of astonishment and professional curiosity.
"I can understand why you consider these valuable," she said, testing the movement of her arm where the laser had struck. "My body feels as though I have rested for several hours, perhaps longer, and yet the effects of the training have not simply been erased from my memory. I still remember the mistakes I made, and I can recognise where I need to improve, but the physical exhaustion has disappeared. Such a thing would change the nature of warfare if it could be produced in sufficient quantities. A force that could recover from prolonged combat in moments would be a formidable opponent, and I imagine that these beans have saved lives in your universe."
"They certainly have." Bardock said, putting the pouch away. "They're rare enough that we don't waste them, and there are limits to what they can do. You can't expect a bean to bring back someone who's dead, and it won't help much if the body has been destroyed beyond the point where it can recover. They're useful, but they're not a substitute for thinking ahead or avoiding a fight you don't need to have. Still, they're a lot more convenient than spending three days in bed after a particularly bad training session."
Diana's gaze shifted to the pouch at his waist, and her eyes narrowed slightly as she took in its shape. She remembered the occasion when Batman had temporarily taken possession of it, and the amount of space it had occupied then. At the time, she had assumed that it contained the usual collection of items a travelling warrior might consider useful, perhaps a few tools, food, and whatever strange devices Bardock had acquired during his life in another universe. The pouch now bulged considerably more than it had on that earlier occasion, its sides stretched by what appeared to be a substantial supply of beans. It was not merely the number that caught her attention, but the implication that he had access to a resource capable of restoring exhausted warriors so quickly, and that he had found a way to keep it supplied without relying on a limited stock.
"Your pouch appears to have grown considerably since Batman last examined it." Diana observed. "I remember it being much flatter when he returned it to you, and I doubt you have spent your time collecting beans one at a time in our universe. Given how valuable these are, I would expect you to guard them carefully rather than carrying what appears to be an entire harvest around with you. Have you found a way to cultivate them, or is there something unusual about the pouch itself that I have not yet understood?"
Bardock glanced down at it and gave a small, satisfied smile. "The pouch is enchanted, although not in the way you might expect. Back home, we have Dragon Balls that can summon a dragon capable of granting wishes, and I once used them to ask Shenron to enchant this thing so it would refill itself with senzu beans every month. Once the month is up, the supply replenishes, so I don't have to worry about running out as long as I keep the pouch with me. I thought it was a pretty sensible use of a wish, especially since senzu beans are difficult to come by and tend to be most useful when you need them immediately."
Diana stared at him for a moment, apparently deciding whether he was serious. "You used a wish granted by a magical dragon to ensure that a pouch would continually refill itself with restorative beans, and nobody in your world had thought of doing that before you came along? I understand the practical value of such a thing, but I find it difficult to believe that no one had considered the possibilities of using a wish to secure a dependable supply of medicine. If the Dragon Balls can grant wishes of that magnitude, then they must represent one of the most extraordinary sources of power in your universe. It seems almost absurd that their potential would be used for something as mundane as keeping a warrior's supplies stocked."
"That's the part I still don't understand." Bardock admitted, leaning back against the counter. "People have used them to bring back the dead, restore worlds, and undo disasters that would otherwise have been impossible to fix. They've also been used by villains who wanted to rule everything, become immortal, or make their enemies suffer. You'd think that somewhere along the way somebody would have looked at a problem that kept coming back and decided to use a wish to solve it permanently. Instead, we spent years gathering the Dragon Balls whenever somebody needed them, and then everyone acted surprised when I came up with something that should have been obvious."
Diana folded her arms, though there was no hostility in her expression. "Perhaps the problem is that power tends to encourage people to think in terms of immediate, dramatic solutions. Bringing someone back from death or restoring a destroyed world feels like a heroic act because the result is visible and immediate, whereas ensuring that a resource remains available for years is less impressive to those who measure success by spectacle. Still, a wish is not a trivial thing, and I would be concerned about the consequences of granting such power without understanding every possible result. A dragon that can alter reality could just as easily be asked to serve a cruel or selfish purpose, and the people who summon it might not possess the wisdom to recognise the danger until it is too late."
"That's happened." Bardock replied, his expression becoming more sober. "We've had people use the Dragon Balls for selfish reasons, and some of those wishes have caused serious trouble. The Z Fighters do what we can to stop anyone from getting their hands on them for the wrong reasons, but we can't be everywhere, and we don't always know what someone intends until they make their move. The Dragon Balls are powerful enough to fix problems that ordinary people could never hope to solve, but that doesn't make them harmless. If anything, it means we have to be more careful about who gets to use them and what they're trying to accomplish."
Diana nodded slowly. "Then perhaps the most important lesson is not that your people should have made more clever wishes, but that the power to make them demands responsibility. There will always be someone who believes that their desires are more important than the consequences for everyone else, and the ability to reshape reality gives such a person an opportunity to do harm on a scale that ordinary criminals could never achieve. I am glad that you and your companions take the danger seriously, even if I suspect you have had to learn that lesson through some rather unpleasant experiences. It would be a mistake to assume that good intentions alone are enough to make extraordinary power safe."
"On that, we agree." Bardock said. "Though I'd still recommend making a few sensible wishes if you ever get the chance. It's amazing how many problems can be avoided by thinking about what you'll need next month instead of what you want right now."
The conversation settled into a comfortable pause as Diana finished her water and Bardock secured the bottle in the storage compartment. He was not usually inclined to discuss the Dragon Balls with people he had only recently met, but Diana had a way of asking questions that made it difficult to dismiss them as idle curiosity. She wanted to understand the principles behind the things she encountered, and she was willing to consider answers that complicated her existing view of the world. That quality made her a more interesting companion than many of the powerful beings he had encountered, who often seemed to assume that strength or divine authority relieved them of the need to explain themselves. As he watched her return the bottle to the counter, he found himself thinking about something he had wanted to ask her for some time.
"There's something else I've been meaning to ask you." Bardock began, his tone shifting into the same quiet curiosity he used when discussing unfamiliar fighting styles. "I can sense something unusual about you, and I don't mean the strength or the fact that you can keep fighting under conditions that would flatten most people. There's a quality to your energy that feels different from what I sense in ordinary humans, and it reminds me of the divine beings back home. I've noticed it since we first met, but I didn't want to make assumptions about your origins before I knew you well enough to ask. What exactly are you, Diana?"
Diana considered her answer carefully, not because she mistrusted him (though she couldn't yet say he was completely trustworthy even now), but because the history of her people was not something she could reduce to a simple explanation.
"I am an Amazon, a daughter of Themyscira, and a warrior raised according to traditions that predate the world most people know. My people were created to serve as protectors of humanity, to defend Man from the forces that would corrupt or destroy him, but the relationship between the Amazons and the world beyond our shores has never been simple. The ancient world was filled with gods, kings, and men who believed that power gave them the right to dominate others. My people suffered under that belief, and our history includes periods of persecution and enslavement that left scars on our collective memory. We were not always free to choose our own path, and the island that became our home was the result of a struggle to reclaim that freedom."
She paused, her gaze briefly drifting towards the sealed chamber door as though she could see beyond it to the blue planet hanging in the darkness. "My mother, Queen Hippolyta, led the Amazons to freedom and guided us to Themyscira, an island created by Zeus so that we could live apart from the world that had persecuted us. There, we built a civilisation devoted to discipline, wisdom, and the preservation of our traditions. We trained as warriors because the world was dangerous, but we were never meant to become conquerors. Our strength was supposed to protect others rather than give us permission to rule them. For much of my life, I believed that remaining on the island was the best way to preserve what we had built, until circumstances forced me to leave and discover how much the world had changed."
Bardock gave a thoughtful nod. "I skimmed some of the Greek history when I was trying to get a better understanding of this world. It was interesting enough, although I'll admit I had trouble keeping track of which god was related to whom and who had tried to kill which member of their family. From what I gathered, the gods spent a lot of time creating problems and then blaming mortals for the consequences. There were some useful stories in there, but it was difficult not to notice how often the whole thing seemed to turn into a disaster because somebody with divine power got offended or decided that a personal grievance was more important than everyone else's lives."
Diana's mouth tightened in a look that was half warning and half reluctant amusement. "The myths are not always reliable accounts of what happened, and the gods were more complicated than the stories often suggest. They were powerful beings, but power did not make them wise, nor did it prevent them from acting out of jealousy, anger, or vanity. However, I would advise you to be cautious about reducing centuries of religious and cultural history to a collection of divine scandals. There is more to the ancient world than the failings of its gods, even if those failings have proved remarkably memorable."
"Fair enough." Bardock said, though the look on his face suggested that his opinion had not changed very much. "But tell me if I've got this wrong: Zeus is the fellow responsible for about half the tragedies in Greek mythology because he couldn't keep it in his pants. Every time I read another story about him, there seems to be a new affair, a new child, or another angry god trying to get revenge on somebody who had nothing to do with any of it. If that's an unfair summary, then I'm willing to hear the defence, but so far the evidence hasn't been particularly encouraging."
Diana gave him a look of profound disapproval that lasted several seconds before she finally sighed. "That is a thoroughly irreverent way of describing the king of the Olympian gods, and I would not recommend using that phrasing in front of anyone who takes the old traditions seriously. Unfortunately, I cannot honestly say that your assessment is entirely without foundation. Zeus was responsible for many affairs and fathered numerous children, and the consequences of his actions often fell upon people who had done nothing to deserve them. The stories are more complicated than your summary allows, but I would be lying if I claimed that his personal conduct was never a source of trouble."
Bardock looked at her more closely, sensing that the conversation had reached something she considered important. "You sound as though you know more about him than a person who has simply read a few books. Is there a reason you're being so careful about what you say? I'm not asking because I want to offend you, and I'm not trying to make light of your people's beliefs. I'm asking because you've just described an island created by Zeus, and you speak about him with a familiarity that suggests your relationship with the gods is more personal than the average historian's."
"There is a reason." Diana answered, her expression becoming more solemn. "Zeus is my father. He sired me before the gods withdrew from the mortal world, and my birth was tied to a purpose that I did not fully understand until I left Themyscira. I was meant to confront my half-brother Ares, the god of war, who had become consumed by hatred for humanity and sought to bring about its destruction. He believed that mankind was inherently corrupt and that the only reasonable course was to turn its violence against itself until civilisation collapsed. In his view, the cruelty and brutality of humanity were proof that it deserved to perish, and he worked to encourage those qualities wherever he could. I was sent into the world to stop him, though I eventually learned that the conflict was not as simple as the stories of gods and monsters might suggest."
Diana's voice remained steady, but Bardock noticed the weight behind it. She had spoken of battles before, and she did not shy away from the cost of violence, yet there was a difference between recounting a difficult fight and discussing a war that had shaped her understanding of humanity. "I killed Ares during the world war." she continued, "But he was weakened when we fought, and I do not believe that his defeat ended his existence permanently. His spirit was sent back to the Areopagus, where he may have recovered his strength and returned to whatever role the gods have chosen to play in the world. I have not encountered him again, but I cannot assume that the danger he represents has disappeared. The conflict taught me that divine beings can be as destructive as the mortals they judge, and that the responsibility to resist them does not disappear simply because they claim to act in the name of a higher purpose."
Bardock remained quiet for a moment, absorbing the information with an expression of genuine fascination. A demigod was not entirely unfamiliar to him; his universe contained beings who had risen from mortal origins, others who were born into divine roles, and more than a few individuals whose abilities made the distinction between mortal and god less useful than people liked to pretend. What interested him was not simply that Diana was the daughter of Zeus, but that her power had a divine origin without seeming to define her entire identity. She had trained, fought, suffered, and made decisions that belonged to her, rather than relying on her parentage as proof that she deserved authority. It was a distinction he respected, particularly after spending so much of his life around beings who treated divine status as an excuse to behave however they pleased.
"That explains the feeling I've been getting from you." he said at last. "You're a demigod, so there's something divine running through you, even if you aren't a god in the same sense as Zeus. It's interesting, because the divine energy in my universe tends to have a different character depending on what kind of being is using it. Some gods are born with it, while others have to learn how to access it, and there are people who can cross the line between mortal and divine without changing what they are at their core. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that your world has its own version of that distinction, but it's still fascinating to meet someone whose power has a connection to the gods and who has actually fought one of them."
Diana studied him, then tilted her head slightly. "You speak about divine energy as though you have more than a passing familiarity with it. I have heard that you are extraordinarily powerful, and I have witnessed enough of your abilities to understand that your strength is not simply a matter of physical conditioning. However, I have never seen you behave like the gods of the old stories, nor have you made any claim to authority over the people around you. If your energy is divine, then I would like to understand what that means for you, and whether it changes the way you view your place in the universe."
Bardock rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little less certain than he had while explaining the intricacies of the gravity chamber. "Well, that's the part that gets complicated. I'm a god myself, in a manner of speaking, or at least I was functioning as one back home before I came through the Breach and had my energy pathways damaged. I don't have the official title yet, but I've been trained for the role and I can access the powers that go with it. There are actually two different aspects to my divinity, which is one reason I've never found it particularly useful to describe myself with a single label. One is a transformation that lets me assume the power of a Saiyan god and then return to my ordinary state whenever I choose. The other is a divine office that I'm being prepared to inherit, and that one carries responsibilities far beyond simply having a stronger form."
Diana's expression grew more intent. "You are saying that you can become a god through transformation, but you are also being trained to take on a position among the ruling powers of your universe. Those sound like two very different things, and I suspect the distinction is important enough that I should understand it before making assumptions about what you are capable of doing. What is this office you have been prepared for, and why does it require you to inherit a title rather than simply use the power you already possess?"
Bardock settled onto the bench opposite her, resting his staff against the wall within easy reach. "There are twelve universes in my home multiverse, and each one has a system designed to keep creation and destruction in balance. The Kais are responsible for nurturing life, overseeing the development of worlds, and guiding the growth of the universe they serve. There are several Kais within a universe, each with their own duties, but they answer to a Supreme Kai, who holds the highest authority over creation in that universe. Their role is to encourage life and give it the opportunity to flourish, although they don't directly control every decision made by the people who live under their care. They can guide, protect, and intervene when necessary, but they cannot make every choice on behalf of the beings they oversee."
He continued, speaking with the ease of someone describing a system he had spent years studying. "In balance with the Kais is the Destroyer God, who has a very different responsibility. A Destroyer is not usually born into the role the way the Kais are; instead, the position is generally given to a mortal warrior from the universe they will serve. That individual is trained to wield the power of destruction, and their job is to eliminate worlds, civilisations, or other things that have become a burden on the universe as a whole. It sounds cruel when you first hear it, and in some ways it is, but the idea is that creation cannot continue indefinitely without anything being removed. If every world and every civilisation were allowed to exist forever regardless of what they became, then the universe would eventually be weighed down by what no longer had a place in it. The Destroyer clears the way for new life, though the judgement involved in deciding what deserves to be destroyed is supposed to be part of the responsibility rather than an excuse to indulge personal whims."
Diana listened without interrupting, her expression thoughtful but increasingly troubled by the implications. "I understand the principle of balance, although I would be cautious about any system that gives one individual the authority to decide whether an entire civilisation deserves to survive. A ruler who can destroy a planet with a gesture must be held to a standard far higher than an ordinary monarch, because the consequences of a mistake are beyond anything most people could repair. You describe the Destroyer's duty as necessary, but necessity can become a convenient excuse for cruelty when no one is permitted to question the person exercising that power. How does your universe prevent the office from becoming a licence for a powerful being to destroy whatever displeases them?"
"Sometimes it doesn't." Bardock answered honestly. "The office doesn't automatically make someone wise or good, and there have been Destroyers who were lazy, arrogant, or far too willing to let their own moods decide what got destroyed. The Kais are supposed to provide a counterbalance, and the higher authorities can intervene if a Destroyer becomes a serious problem, but the system still depends on the person holding the title taking their responsibilities seriously. That's why the training matters. You're not just learning how to use the power; you're supposed to learn when to use it, when to leave something alone, and how to make decisions that serve the universe rather than your own convenience. It's a lot easier to destroy a planet than to accept that you might be wrong about whether it needs to be destroyed."
Diana nodded, recognising the uncomfortable truth in his answer. "Then I hope the person who trained you understood that distinction. I have encountered enough rulers who claimed that their actions served a greater purpose to know that such words are often used to silence those who suffer from their decisions. A power that can erase an entire world should never be treated as a simple tool, and the person entrusted with it must understand that the lives affected by a decision are not merely numbers on a record. Even if the universe requires destruction to maintain its balance, there must still be room for judgement, restraint, and the possibility that the Destroyer has misunderstood the situation."
"There's one Destroyer per universe," Bardock continued, "although they can employ agents or disciples to carry out some of their work. The Destroyer doesn't have to personally visit every planet that needs attention, so they sometimes appoint someone to handle the less complicated tasks. One of those agents was Frieza, a warlord who conquered worlds and wiped out entire populations on behalf of my universe's Destroyer, Lord Beerus. Frieza was the one who destroyed Planet Vegeta and killed most of the Saiyan race, but he was acting on Beerus's orders when he did it. Beerus decided that the Saiyans had become too much of a problem, and he used Frieza to remove them rather than dealing with the planet himself."
Diana's expression hardened. "You are telling me that your own Destroyer ordered the destruction of your homeworld, and that the warlord responsible for the genocide of your people was acting as his agent. I know that you have spoken critically of the Saiyans, and I understand that your people committed terrible acts during their expansion across the universe, but I would still expect such a history to leave you with some anger towards the being who ultimately authorised their destruction. Even if the Saiyans had become a danger to others, that does not mean every individual who died deserved to share the same fate. How can you accept the decision so calmly when you belong to the very people who were wiped out?"
Bardock did not answer immediately. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers once before resting them on his knees, not because the question had wounded him, but because he wanted to give it an honest answer rather than the easy one. He had spent enough of his life considering the Saiyans to know that nostalgia could make a people seem nobler in death than they had ever been in life. It was tempting to imagine that the destruction of Planet Vegeta had robbed the universe of a great civilisation, but the truth was far less flattering. The Saiyans had built their power through conquest, sold their strength to those willing to pay, and left entire worlds in ruin. Their cruelty had not been an unfortunate exception to their culture; it had been encouraged, rewarded, and passed down as a virtue.
"I don't have a problem with Beerus making that decision." Bardock said at last. "The Saiyans were a destructive, violent race who spread misery wherever they went, and they were perfectly happy to keep doing it as long as someone was willing to pay them. I'm not going to pretend they were innocent victims simply because I share their blood. Beerus did what a Destroyer is supposed to do when something becomes a problem for the universe, and I can understand why he decided that the Saiyans needed to be removed. That doesn't mean I think Frieza was a decent person, or that everything Beerus does is automatically right, but I'm not interested in demanding that my race be restored just because I happened to be born from it."
Diana studied him in silence, looking for some sign that his calmness concealed a resentment he had chosen not to reveal. What she found instead was a conviction that had been formed through long reflection rather than indifference. Bardock was not dismissing the lives that had been lost, nor was he claiming that the destruction of a planet was a trivial matter. He simply refused to turn his ancestry into an argument for restoring a society whose values he considered rotten. His judgement might have seemed severe to someone who had spent her life fighting to protect a people who had suffered persecution, but she could not deny that he was applying the same standard to his own kind that he would apply to any other civilisation. He was willing to acknowledge the loss without pretending that the world destroyed had been worth preserving in its old form.
"The Saiyans who remain are slowly repopulating through human wombs." Bardock added, his tone becoming a little lighter without losing its seriousness. "So far, the children being born from that line have turned out to be better than the people who came before them. They still have the strength, the appetite, and the instinct for fighting, but they've been raised with a different understanding of what those things are for. They can be warriors without needing to conquer everyone they meet, and they can enjoy a fight without turning it into an excuse to destroy somebody's life. If the Saiyan race is going to have a future, I'd rather it be through those children than by bringing back a bloodthirsty civilisation that would probably start another war the moment it had enough strength to do so."
"That is a harsh judgement of your ancestors, but it is also a hopeful one." Diana replied. "You are not arguing that the past should be erased or that the lives lost meant nothing. You are saying that the surviving bloodline has an opportunity to become something better than the society that produced it, and that restoring the old order would be a betrayal of that opportunity. I can respect the desire to preserve what is worth saving without allowing the failures of the past to dictate what the future must become. My people have their own complicated history, and I know that a civilisation can survive its suffering without being defined entirely by it. Perhaps the most important question is not whether the Saiyans deserve another chance, but what they choose to do with the one they have."
Bardock gave her a small nod, apparently satisfied that she understood what he meant. "That's how I see it. The bloodline doesn't have to carry the same beliefs as the people who came before it, and being strong doesn't mean you have to make everyone else miserable. The children have a chance to grow up with better values, and I'd rather help them do that than spend my time wishing for a world that probably shouldn't have existed in the first place. I'm not ashamed of being a Saiyan. In fact, I am very proud to have been given the privilege to be born a Saiyan with all the potential it entails, but I'm not going to defend every terrible thing Saiyans ever did just because their blood runs through my veins."
Diana let the matter rest for a moment before returning to the question of his own position. "If you have been trained to become a Destroyer, then why have you not taken the title already? You speak as though you have access to the powers of the office, and you have described your training in terms that suggest you are already capable of carrying out its duties. Is the title merely ceremonial, or does something change when the current Destroyer formally passes the position to you? I assume that the distinction is more substantial than a change in rank, particularly if the office is responsible for maintaining balance across an entire universe."
"The title matters because the office is more than the power." Bardock replied. "I've been trained to use the abilities of a Destroyer, including the energy that lets us erase things at a level ordinary ki attacks can't reach, but Beerus is still the one holding the position. Until he's ready to hand it over, I can't exercise the full authority that comes with it. I can train, learn, and prepare myself to take his place, but I'm not the one responsible for making the final decisions in Universe Seven yet. When the time comes, I'll inherit the mantle and the obligations that go with it, and I'll have to prove that I can handle both the power and the responsibility."
Diana leaned forward slightly. "And have you ever tried using that power here, in this universe? You have been stranded on this side of the Breach for some time, and you have already had to adapt your ordinary abilities to a different set of physical and metaphysical laws. If your divine energy operates differently from your mortal power, then perhaps it could provide another way to access your strength without relying on the pathways that were damaged when you crossed over. I am not suggesting that you experiment carelessly, especially when the League is still trying to understand the consequences of the Breach, but it seems strange that you would not have tested such an important part of your abilities."
Bardock went still.
For a moment, Diana thought she had offended him, but the expression that crossed his face was less anger than sudden, profound embarrassment. He stared at a point somewhere over her shoulder, his mouth tightening as he mentally retraced the weeks he had spent trying to restore his access to mortal ki. He had tested his control, practised telekinesis, refined the smallest movements of his energy, and deliberately kept himself within the limits of what his damaged pathways could manage.
He had fought criminals, sparred with her, and obliterated Amazo, all while treating the restrictions imposed by the Breach as a problem he had to solve through ordinary training. At no point had he seriously considered trying to access the divine energy he had spent so long learning to control. It was an omission so obvious that he could only blame habit: back home, his divine forms made most conventional fights embarrassingly easy, so he had learned to rely on his mortal abilities unless the situation genuinely demanded more.
'Brilliant work, Bardock.' he thought, resisting the urge to put his palm against his forehead. 'You've been trying to fix a damaged road for weeks without checking whether there's another route around the obstruction. Whis would never let me hear the end of this if he knew.'
"I haven't tried." he admitted aloud, looking faintly irritated with himself. "I've been concentrating on getting my ordinary ki under control again, and I suppose I got so used to doing things that way that I didn't stop to consider whether the divine side of my power was affected in the same way. I'll have to test it carefully when I have a suitable opportunity. I don't want to start throwing around energy I haven't properly assessed in this universe, especially while we're still dealing with the Breach and trying to work out what has crossed over from the other side."
Diana's expression was understanding, although she clearly found his oversight amusing. "It is easy to become accustomed to a familiar way of solving problems, particularly when that approach has served you well for a long time. I imagine that the damage you suffered crossing between universes has forced you to reconsider abilities you once took for granted, and perhaps the effort of restoring them has made it difficult to look beyond the immediate problem. Still, I would advise you not to overlook an aspect of your power simply because it has rarely been necessary. The abilities you choose not to use can be just as important to understand as the ones you rely upon every day."
"I'll keep that in mind," Bardock said, rising from the bench and retrieving his staff. "Although I'm not eager to attract the attention of hostile gods by lighting up the sky with energy they've never seen before. I've met enough powerful beings to know that some of them take a sudden display of strength as a personal invitation to interfere. I'd rather learn what I can do quietly before announcing to every divine creature in this universe that there's a new player on the board. If I can help it, I'd prefer to keep the number of cosmic complications in my life from increasing."
Diana stood beside him, looking considerably more comfortable now that the senzu bean had restored her strength. "That is a sensible precaution, though I suspect your presence has already attracted more attention than you realise. The Breach itself is an extraordinary event, and the arrival of a warrior with your abilities is unlikely to go unnoticed by every being capable of sensing power across this universe. Even so, I agree that there is no reason to invite unnecessary conflict. You should learn what you can do before deciding how much of it the world needs to see, and I would be willing to assist you if you need someone familiar with divine energy to observe the process."
Bardock smiled at that, evidently pleased by the offer. "I might take you up on it. You know more about the gods of this universe than I do, and I'd rather have someone sensible nearby when I start experimenting than discover that I've accidentally challenged an entire pantheon to a fight. But for now, I think I've had enough training for one day. I'm going back down to Earth for a little recreation, and I'm considering watching a film or finding somewhere with decent food. I've spent too much time either fighting criminals or trying to understand the rules of this universe, and I'd like to do something that doesn't involve the possibility of the planet getting destroyed."
Diana laughed softly as she gathered her things. "You have an unusual idea of recreation, considering that you brought a gravity chamber to the Moon and spent two hours sparring under conditions that would make most athletes collapse. However, I understand the desire to do something ordinary after a difficult day, and I hope you find a film worth watching. If you do decide to visit a cinema, I would recommend choosing something that does not involve an exaggerated depiction of martial artists. I suspect you would spend the entire film criticising the choreography, and the people around you might not appreciate hearing an extended lecture on why the hero's stance is incorrect."
"That depends on the film." Bardock said, adjusting the waistband of his trousers and checking that his pouch was secure. "If the fighting is good, I can appreciate it, and if it's bad, then I can always pretend I'm watching a comedy. I'm also still interested in visiting Themyscira. I'd like to see the place you grew up, meet some of the warriors who taught you, and understand what makes Amazon combat different from the styles I've encountered elsewhere. I've seen enough of your fighting to know that your people have developed some useful techniques, and I'd like to see how those techniques look when they're being used by someone who grew up learning them from childhood."
Diana's expression became apologetic. "I am afraid that visiting Themyscira may be more complicated than you expect. My people have lived apart from the world for generations, and although I have brought some of our traditions into the wider world, the island remains a place where outsiders are not readily welcomed. Men, in particular, are not permitted to visit freely. The restriction is rooted in our history and the experiences that led my people to seek refuge there, and while I do not agree with every decision made by our elders, I cannot promise that they would be willing to make an exception simply because you are curious about our culture."
Bardock looked genuinely disappointed. "So I can fight a robot that copies the abilities of half the Justice League, survive a trip between universes, and spend a couple of hours training under one hundred times Earth's gravity, but I might be stopped at the door of an island because I'm a man. I can understand the historical reasons, and I'm not asking you to break your people's rules just to satisfy my curiosity, but I'd hoped that being a visitor from another universe might count for something. It seems a little unfair that the place where you learned to fight is the one place I'm least likely to be allowed to see."
"I understand your disappointment." Diana said, keeping her tone gentle. "However, I would not want you to arrive expecting a warm welcome only to discover that my people regard your presence as an intrusion. They may be willing to accommodate you if I explain your circumstances, particularly if I make it clear that you have no intention of challenging their traditions or imposing yourself upon them. Yet I cannot guarantee that they would be pleased to see you, and I would rather be honest about that possibility than promise you an invitation I do not have the authority to give."
Bardock considered that, then raised one eyebrow. "What if I point out that I'm a god? Would that make a difference, or would the Amazons simply decide that they have no interest in entertaining another divine man who believes the rules don't apply to him? I'm not asking because I think the title should let me do whatever I want, but I'm curious whether they would regard a god from another universe as a special case. It would be a little ironic if the thing that made me more interesting to them also made them less willing to let me through the door."
Diana gave him a long, measuring look before answering. "They might agree to receive you, but I would not expect the invitation to make you especially popular. My people have their own history with the gods, and the fact that you come from another universe would not erase the distrust many of them feel towards powerful men who claim divine status. You might be treated with the courtesy owed to a guest, but you would still be watched carefully, and any suggestion that you believed yourself entitled to special treatment would make the situation considerably worse. If you wish to visit Themyscira, you would be wise to approach the matter as a traveller hoping to learn rather than a god expecting to be honoured."
"That's fair." Bardock conceded, though his disappointment remained visible. "I'll leave the decision to you and your people, then. I'm not going to force my way onto an island simply because I want to see it, and I'd rather be turned away honestly than invited somewhere that everyone wishes I would leave. If the opportunity comes up, I'd still like to visit, but I can find other things to do in the meantime. Earth has plenty of places I haven't seen yet, and I suspect I could spend a few lifetimes exploring them without running out of interesting things to discover."
The two of them left the gravity chamber together, stepping through the sealed hatch into the small access compartment where Bardock had stored the capsule's control unit. With the training session concluded, the chamber's internal lights had returned to their ordinary setting, and the warning systems had gone quiet. Bardock glanced back at the reinforced dome with a look of satisfaction, already considering how he might adjust the next session to give Diana more opportunities to practise against multiple opponents without relying on the drones to dictate every movement. She had impressed him, not because she could match his raw strength, but because she remained willing to learn while exhausted and refused to mistake defeat for humiliation. In his experience, that was a more useful quality in a warrior than the ability to win every contest.
Diana, meanwhile, was still thinking about the things he had revealed. A Saiyan who could become a god through transformation, a warrior trained to inherit an office responsible for destroying worlds, and a man who accepted the destruction of his own people because he believed their society had become a danger to the universe was not someone she could understand through a single conversation. There were contradictions in him, but they did not necessarily amount to hypocrisy. He possessed extraordinary power without seeming to need constant recognition for it, and he could speak about the destruction of a planet with the same calmness he used when discussing the importance of learning from a sparring session. She did not agree with every part of his philosophy, particularly the ease with which he accepted the role of a Destroyer, but she respected that he had considered its implications rather than treating the title as a prize.
The capsule's control unit returned to its compact form at Bardock's touch, and he slipped it into his pouch before checking that everything else was secure.
"Ready to head back?" he asked, glancing towards the distant horizon of the lunar surface beyond the access hatch. "I'll take us to the Watchtower, and then I'll be on my way. I've been promised that Central City has a few museums worth visiting, and Barry seems determined to show me every restaurant in the city that serves something he considers edible. If I'm lucky, I'll find a decent film before he decides to turn the entire evening into a tour of his favourite places."
Diana smiled as she stepped beside him. "Barry does have a habit of becoming enthusiastic when he believes he has found something worth sharing, although I suspect that his definition of a good restaurant may be influenced by how quickly the staff can bring him another meal. I hope you enjoy your time on Earth, Bardock, and that you find more opportunities to explore the world without being interrupted by another crisis. You have already made an impression on the League, for better or worse, and I believe that people will come to understand you more clearly as they see what you choose to do with your strength."
"We'll see how long that lasts," Bardock replied, extending his hand so that Diana could take hold of his forearm before he used Instant Transmission. "I have a feeling that this universe has a talent for finding trouble, and I'm beginning to suspect that I arrived just in time to get involved in more of it than I ever wanted. Still, there are worse places to be stranded, and I can't complain too much when there are good people around who are willing to teach me something new. Besides, if I'm going to be stuck here for a while, I may as well make the most of it."
A moment later, the lunar landscape vanished around them, replaced by the familiar metallic corridors of the Watchtower. The chamber on the Moon remained behind in the silence of the Plato crater, its reinforced shell gleaming beneath the unfiltered sunlight, while Earth hung beyond the horizon like a blue jewel against the blackness of space. Somewhere below them, cities continued to move through their ordinary routines, unaware of the conversations that had taken place above their heads or the powers that might soon be tested in their skies.
Bardock had come to the Moon to train, and he was returning with a better understanding of Diana, a new question about his own damaged abilities, and the realisation that the divine energy he had neglected might offer a path forward. For now, though, he had decided that the next challenge could wait until after a good meal and a film, and he was perfectly content to let the universe manage itself for a few hours.