The bright glow of the Time Machine's capsule dome slowly dimmed as the device shook in mid-air, emerging from the distorted tunnel of time. Sparks of blue lightning flickered and vanished behind it, leaving only the silent sky above and a darkened, ruined landscape below.
Inside the cockpit, Trunks gripped the controls tightly, sweat on his forehead. "We… we made it," he said with a sigh of relief, scanning the cracked monitors. His eyes softened a little before shifting toward his companion.
Rudra sat silently, calm as ever, his sharp gaze already fixed outside through the glass. Unlike Trunks, his breathing was steady, his expression unreadable. Yet within him burned an anticipation, a tension, for the world twenty years ahead was no ordinary destination—it was a battlefield shaped by despair.
The Time Machine finally slowed, stabilizing in mid-air. With a metallic hiss, it hovered above what once must have been a thriving city.
Trunks glanced at Rudra. "This is it… twenty years in the future."
Rudra did not answer immediately. His eyes scanned the ground below. The city was now nothing more than a graveyard of concrete and steel. Buildings lay in ruins, half-collapsed and hollow, black smoke still rising from a few distant corners as though the destruction never stopped. Streets that should have been alive with people were eerily silent, littered with broken cars and shattered glass.
Only the wind spoke, whistling through broken windows and crumbled towers.
Finally, Rudra broke the silence. His deep voice was calm, but carried a weight.
"So this… is the future twenty years from now."
Trunks swallowed hard, his hands tightening around the control stick. "Yes. This is the time… where Androids brought humanity to its knees. My time." His voice cracked slightly as old memories returned—the screams, the destruction, the helplessness.
The Time Machine slowly descended, its legs extending before landing with a heavy metallic thud on cracked pavement. The sound echoed across the empty street.
For a long moment, both of them simply sat there, listening to the dead silence outside.
Then Trunks stood, brushing his hand across the console. "We should step out carefully. This era is… dangerous. The Androids could appear anywhere."
Rudra rose as well, his hand unconsciously brushing the hilt of the sword strapped behind his back. Its black scabbard gleamed faintly under the pale sunlight that cut through the smoky sky. The sword was no ordinary weapon—its special material allowed it to absorb ki, turning it into destructive slashes. He had brought it for a purpose, and that purpose might soon be tested.
The hatch slowly hissed open. A gust of dry, dusty wind blew into the cabin, carrying with it the scent of ash and rust.
Trunks climbed out first, his boots landing on the cracked ground. He turned in all directions, eyes sharp, scanning the ruins for any sign of movement. His lavender hair danced in the wind as he clenched his fists.
Rudra followed, stepping out calmly. His cloak fluttered as he straightened, the sword resting heavily on his back. His eyes moved slowly across the ruins, taking in every shattered building, every burned car, every lifeless street. His face remained calm, but there was a slight narrowing of his eyes—an acknowledgment of the weight of destruction around him.
"This world is suffocating," Rudra muttered, his voice low. "It reeks of despair."
Trunks nodded. "Yes. This… is what I've been fighting to change. For twenty years, humanity has suffered under the Androids. Barely anyone is left." He clenched his fists tighter, his knuckles white.
The two of them began walking down the empty street. Their footsteps echoed against the hollow silence. The air was heavy, and every sound seemed sharper—the crunch of glass under their boots, the whistle of wind through broken structures, the distant crash of debris collapsing somewhere far away.
Trunks's eyes softened as he looked around. He could almost see ghosts of the past—children running on sidewalks, shopkeepers calling out, cars filling the roads. But all of it was gone, swallowed by two merciless machines.
He stopped walking and lowered his gaze. "Rudra… every time I come here, it hurts. I promised myself that I would protect them, that I would stop the Androids. But…" His voice cracked as he looked at the ruins. "…but look at this."
Rudra turned his head toward him, his expression steady. "You carry the burden of your era, Trunks. But do not let it weaken you. This destruction… is not the end. It is the lesson."
Trunks blinked, surprised by the calm certainty in Rudra's voice. "Lesson…?"
Rudra nodded slowly. "Yes. Every ruin speaks. Every broken stone tells a story. The Androids destroyed cities, but they also revealed the truth of strength and weakness. And it is our duty to understand that truth—so that history does not repeat."
His words, firm and steady, struck deeply within Trunks. He lowered his eyes but slowly nodded.
They continued walking. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant howl of the wind.
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