Thousands of planets had fallen, entire civilizations had bowed, and in every corner of the cosmos, temples were erected dedicated to a single name: Goku Black.
He was not the warrior who had once worn the face of Son Goku, nor a disciple of the gods. He was much more. The manifestation of Divine Elegance, a being who had carried Zamasu's ambition beyond any boundary, raising an empire forged in blood and devotion.
In a palace suspended between galaxies, thousands of subjects knelt. Their voices thundered like a choral storm:
"Eternal glory to the God of Divine Elegance! Glory to Black!"
From a throne of light and darkness, Goku Black rose calmly. His cold gaze swept over the crowd, and with a subtle smile, he spoke:
"Ah, worms! You, fragile and imperfect… you worship me because in me you behold the unattainable. Absolute harmony. The beauty of infinity. Eternity itself clad in elegance."
A subject, trembling from his devotion, raised his voice:
"My lord… is it true that you will soon merge with all existence? That you will be the beginning and the consummation of life?"
Black extended his hand toward the divine key, floating like a dark sun before him, and answered with relentless serenity:
"There will be no more chaos, no errors, no filth of the mortal. I will be the only origin and the final word. In me, order shall rest, and in my shadow, all shall find purpose. I am the apex, and you… will be absorbed by my greatness."
The entire universe awaited that moment.
Then, Goku Black stood. His voice resonated like a decree carved into eternity:
"Listen. The failings of the gods and the folly of men and various species have ended. The cosmos will be cleansed of all trace of ugliness, all disorder, all weakness. I am not heir to creation… I am its replacement. In me, eternity will find its perfect form, and all that breathes shall bow under a single name: mine."
Silence seized the palace. From the shadows emerged a woman of lethal beauty, wrapped in a dark cloak that shimmered like obsidian under the stars. Each of her steps sounded like broken bells announcing an omen.
She knelt with impeccable reverence, presenting an ebony box covered in arcane runes. Her voice, velvety and venomous, filled the air:
"My lord, I bring what you commanded. The legacy of those who dared defy the gods… the Ten Rings of the Abyss."
A fearful murmur ran through the faithful.
The box opened on its own, revealing ten fragments of absolute darkness, so dense they devoured the very light. Black gazed at them with delight and made them levitate, orbiting around him like worlds trapped by a black sun.
The lady lifted her gaze, her eyes burning like live coals:
"Then, my lord, will the prophecy be fulfilled?"
Black raised the divine key in one hand, while the rings traced a circle of darkness around him. His voice fell like a final sentence:
"It is not prophecy… it is the truth that burns in my veins. And all truth, sooner or later, bows before me."
Suddenly, his vision blurred. A burning sting pierced his mind. The rings trembled, the key throbbed with irregular violence, and the supreme god brought his hand to his forehead.
"What… is this? What is happening to me…?"
His followers broke the silence with cries of panic:
"My lord, he is hurt!"
"It cannot be… the gods have cursed him!"
The dark lady recoiled, frozen as she felt Black's energy shatter like crystal.
The God of Divine Elegance staggered, clutching himself as his entire body tore between light and shadow. His last vision was his empire trembling… before dissolving into absolute void.
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in his palace.
He was sitting at a wooden desk, under a fluorescent light. The incense of the temples had been replaced by the smell of chalk and paper. The voices of subjects had become the laughter and whispers of young students.
Around him, students with backpacks and uniforms filled the classroom. And he… looking at his hands, saw that he was one of them.
"What… is this?" he thought, clenching his fists in contained rage.
The teacher at the front looked up, frowning:
"Are you okay, Mr. Black?"
The quiet laughter of some classmates stabbed at him like blades. The God of Divine Elegance was trapped in a mortal body, in a mundane world.
Black lowered his gaze to his human hands, and an unbearable pain pierced his head.
Images overflowed within his mind: planets consumed by flames, kneeling crowds, temples raised in his name, the divine key shining in his palm, the Ten Rings spinning like dark suns. Mixed with them, foreign memories: scribbled notes, failed exams, sleepless nights, youthful laughter in university hallways.
The memories fused: the god who had shaken galaxies and the ordinary student ceased to exist separately.
His breathing became erratic. He brought a hand to his forehead, sweating cold.
"What… what is happening…?" he murmured softly.
Several heads turned toward him. The classroom's murmur became a chorus of curiosity and confusion.
The teacher approached, visibly concerned:
"Do you need to step out?"
He looked up. For a moment, a flash impossible to contain ignited in his gaze, as if the memory of entire universes bowed before him was hidden within.
The god had fallen. The human had awakened.
One voice roared with the majesty of a god, the other with the fragility of a mere student.
"I am Black… the God of Divine Elegance."
"No… you are just a human… a nobody."
His breathing quickened. He abruptly stood from his seat, knocking the chair to the floor. Several laughs choked in surprise, other students looked at him uneasily.
"What is wrong with him?" a young man exclaimed.
But he did not listen. His mind burned, splitting into two voices, two existences that could not coexist. He brought his hands to his head, clenching his teeth in fury.
"Enough! Shut up!" he muttered, though no one spoke.
His steps carried him out of the classroom abruptly. He pushed the door violently and exited into the crowded hallway. The collision was inevitable: backpacks falling, books scattered, complaints, and annoyed glances.
"Hey, watch where you're going!"
"What the hell is wrong with that guy?"
But he did not stop. He kept running, staggering, like an exiled god trapped in a body too small to contain him.
"I am not me… this body is not mine! I am not this miserable human!" he thought angrily.
He turned a corner, but his legs—clumsy, limited—did not respond as before. He tripped on a poorly measured step and fell to his knees on the floor. The impact shook him, tearing a groan of pain from his throat.
Some students approached, unsure:
"Are you okay, friend?"
"Do you want me to call someone?"
Black slowly lifted his head, his pupils bloodshot with anger and confusion. That human body trembled, but in the depths of his gaze burned the shadow of one who had made all worlds bow.
He rose clumsily, ignoring everyone, and ran again.
"I must remember who I am! I must become myself again!"
He ran to the university doors; as he opened them, the sunlight struck him violently. The brightness was too intense, forcing him to squint. For a moment, everything turned white, a scorching void that disoriented him.
"Tch… damn insignificant star!" he thought angrily, and in that moment of blindness, collided head-on with a hard, heavy mass.
A brief silence surrounded him, broken immediately by a deep, mocking laugh. In front of him, a large man, wide as a wall and with a stomach heaving beneath the tight fabric of his shirt, looked at him with a twisted smile.
"Well, look what we have here…" he said with a voice full of contempt. "Apparently, it's the miserable Black. Causing trouble again, huh?"
Before he could react, the bulky man's hand rose and descended like a hammer. The slap echoed in the air, a dry hit that sent him sprawling onto the concrete floor.
The world spun. The God of Divine Elegance, reduced to a helpless student, felt the humiliation burn more than the blow itself. Around him, some students watched with curiosity, others with morbid amusement.
He slowly brought a hand to his burning cheek. His breathing grew heavy, and his eyes, glowing with the anger of two colliding universes, fixed on that vulgar human who dared touch him.
"Despicable creature! Who are you to dare touch me?!"
His voice rang across the yard, cutting through laughter and whispers. Some students were left open-mouthed, others laughed, thinking it a mere exaggeration of a strange boy.
The bulky man looked at him with a mocking smirk, tilting his head. In his pupils shone the simple cruelty of one who enjoys humiliating someone weaker. Without hesitation, he raised his hand again and brought it down on his face.
The slap was even harder than the previous one. The dry sound bounced off the building walls, and Black fell to the side, a thread of blood running from the corner of his lips.
A group of students let out nervous laughter. Others merely watched, expectant, as if witnessing a forbidden spectacle.
Black, lying on the ground, gritted his teeth. His eyes, shining with contained rage and humiliation, seemed to hide a fire that threatened to consume everything.
"Enough!" his divine mind roared. "You are Black, the God of Divine Elegance! You cannot allow an insect to defile you this way!"
Suddenly, it was no longer a slap he received, but a kick to the stomach. The blow tore the air from his lungs with an agonizing gasp and threw him across the grass, making him roll uncontrollably until he curled up on himself.
"Idiot! Who do you think you are, a comic book character or what the hell, to talk to me like that, huh?" spat the guy, with a mocking smile as he strutted in front of the others.
He writhed, arms pressed against his abdomen, while a sharp pain pierced him as if his human body were too fragile to endure such punishment.
As the big guy prepared to land another blow, a firm hand caught his arm abruptly.
"Enough. Stop now," said a calm voice, yet laden with unexpected authority.
The aggressor turned his head in annoyance, facing a medium-tall boy with messy black hair and glasses that gave him the air of an ordinary nerd. Yet, in the firmness of his gaze, there was something that did not fit the image of weakness.
"And who are you, four eyes, to tell me what to do… to this idiot?" growled the big guy, trying to free himself. "Damn it…"
The boy did not let go. His grip was surprisingly strong, unbreakable.
Black, still on the ground, lifted his gaze. And then he saw him clearly. His breath caught sharply, his eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost.
"No… impossible… you…" he murmured, his voice broken between surprise and disbelief.
The boy with glasses looked directly at him, as if he knew those words were meant for him.
Before Black's eyes, he was not just any student. He was Gohan.
The same Gohan who, in another timeline, had fought him, the son of Son Goku, the heir of a lineage that had always interfered with his plans. Seeing him there, reduced to a simple "nerdy student," was as disconcerting as it was unbearable.
"Gohan… why are you protecting me?"