I'm doomed.
That was the first coherent thought that managed to claw its way through the fog of panic in my mind.
One moment, I was just a college kid—half-drunk, stumbling into bed after a party, trying to ignore the pounding in my skull and the vague regret about the test I hadn't studied for. The next moment… I wasn't in my room anymore. I wasn't even in my body anymore.
I was Trunks.
And not the "cool time-traveling, sword-wielding Trunks who saves everyone" version. No. Fate, with its cruel sense of humor, decided to dump me into the original timeline.
The dead timeline.
At first, I tried to convince myself it was a dream. Maybe I'd binge-watched too much Dragon Ball Z after a party. Maybe I was tripping. But then I looked in the mirror. A young boy's face stared back at me. Lavender hair. Blue eyes. Thirteen years old.
The weight in my stomach dropped like lead.
Thirteen. That meant only one thing.
Gohan was still alive. Some of the Z Fighters were still clinging to life in this nightmare world.
But the Androids… they were still out there too. Still laughing while turning cities into graveyards. Still turning Earth into a wasteland where hope had been buried long ago.
And if my memory was right—Trunks was sixteen when Gohan died. Which meant I had maybe three years before the inevitable. Three years before this fragile lifeline of hope was cut down and I'd be standing alone.
My throat went dry. My heart thundered in my chest.
I'm screwed, aren't I?
This wasn't the fun kind of "isekai." This was a death sentence wrapped in anime paint. I knew the timeline. I knew the horrors waiting just around the corner. Cell. Dabura. Majin Buu. And looming further down the cursed road—Zamasu, the self-righteous bastard who wanted to erase mortals altogether.
It was like waking up on a chessboard where every piece was already against me, and I was just a pawn.
That's when I heard it.
A sound that didn't belong in the silence of the ruined city around me.
{Ding!}
The noise rang inside my head, cold and mechanical, followed by words scrawled across the darkness of my mind's eye.
{System has loaded}
I froze. For a second, hope sparked. A system? The classic cheat of cheats? The golden finger of every reincarnator story?
The next second, information slammed into my brain like a wave. I staggered back, clutching my temples, fighting the surge of alien knowledge. My instincts screamed at me that this was real—not some hallucination. Trunk's memory also flooded into me.
When the headache dulled, I forced myself to focus. The "System" explained itself in neat, cruel lines.
It wouldn't hand me power on a silver platter. No free training wheels. No instant omnipotence.
No, this bastard only rewarded me when I cleared or altered important "plot points."
My lips twisted. "So basically… I'm a lab rat in my own favorite show."
Still, lab rat or not, it was something. A thread of control in a world where I otherwise had none.
I licked my lips. My voice trembled as I asked the obvious question, "Do you have a novice gift package?"
{Yes.}
The single-word reply made my stomach flip.
Open it, I thought, barely daring to breathe.
{Novice gift package opened}
A rush of energy slammed into me, forcing me to my knees. My heart nearly exploded as warmth ignited in the core of my being, flooding my veins with fire and light.
{Super Saiyan 1 unlocked}
The words hung in the air, but it wasn't just words. I could feel it—like a door inside me had swung open, revealing a raging ocean just waiting to spill out.
My body got stronger.
Before I could even stand, more data etched itself into my skull.
{Super Saiyan Grade Forms and Super Saiyan 2 training methods have been transferred to host's consciousness}
I gasped, clutching my head as battle strategies, breathing techniques, and the subtle nuances of channeling rage into raw transformation carved themselves into my neurons.
And then came the last line:
{Talent: Child of Ki unlocked}
{Child of Ki – The user is loved by Ki. It responds eagerly to the user's call.}
I collapsed onto my back, staring at the cracked ceiling of the ruined building I'd been sheltering in. My chest heaved as I tried to process it all.
Super Saiyan. At thirteen. Techniques for pushing beyond. And a talent that meant energy itself would bend toward me like a friend instead of resisting like a stranger.
For the first time since waking up in this nightmare, my heart stopped thrashing like a trapped animal.
Maybe… just maybe… I wasn't doomed.
But the relief only lasted a heartbeat.
Because even with this, the threats were monstrous. Could I really stand against the Androids yet? Against Cell? Against Buu? Against gods?
Even trunks from canon died. The other future trunks failed, and the universe was erased.
And yet, the power simmering in my veins whispered otherwise. My hands trembled as I clenched them into fists, and I swore I felt the world itself hold its breath in response.
Child of Ki.
For the first time, the Earth wasn't rejecting me. It was waiting. Watching.
I swallowed hard, staring at the broken city outside. Skyscrapers reduced to steel skeletons. Streets littered with ash. Somewhere out there, the Androids laughed while tearing apart another town.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. I wanted to crawl back into bed and wake up to my old, pathetic life.
But I couldn't.
My jaw tightened. Fear still gnawed at me, but now there was something else simmering beneath it. Resolve.
"I don't know why I'm here," I whispered into the silence. My voice cracked, but I forced it louder. "But I'm not going down like some disposable extra. If this system wants me to change the story… fine. I'll rewrite it myself."
The golden flame of a Super Saiyan stirred faintly inside me, restless, eager.
And for the first time since waking up in this cursed timeline, I let myself believe…
I might just survive.