18 Years Later
Fraternity Training Grounds - Textile Mill
Smith Doyle stood in the center of the sparring arena, six of the Fraternity 's best assassins forming a loose circle around him. Mr. X to his left, Cross directly ahead, the Butcher cracking his knuckles to the right. Behind them, the Repairman, the Gunsmith, and the Exterminator waited for an opening.
Six against one.
Smith's heart beat steady and calm in his chest. Two days ago, this would have been impossible. He was good, sure. Eighteen years of training had made him dangerous. But these weren't ordinary fighters. These were the elite killers who had raised him, each one a master of their craft.
Two days ago, he would have lost.
Today was different.
Smith dropped into a low stance, fingers curved into claws. His muscles coiled like springs. Then he exploded forward.
"Wolf Fang Wind Fist!"
The words came out as a growl, and Smith became a blur of motion. He closed the distance to Cross in a heartbeat, faster than he'd ever moved before.
Mr. X's eyes widened. "What the—"
Both he and Cross triggered their bullet time simultaneously. The world slowed down around them, their enhanced perception letting them track movements that would be invisible to normal people. It was the Fraternity's greatest technique, passed down through bloodlines, and it had never failed them in close combat.
It failed now.
Smith's fist caught Cross in the chest before the older assassin could even raise his guard. The impact sent Cross flying backward, crashing into the Gunsmith. Smith pivoted without stopping, his leg sweeping out to catch Mr. X in the ribs.
The Butcher charged from the side, his massive frame like a freight train. Smith ducked under the grab, drove an elbow into the big man's gut, and used the momentum to launch himself at the Repairman.
Each strike flowed into the next like a choreographed dance. No wasted movement. Pure efficiency. The Exterminator tried to flank him, but Smith was already there, a spinning kick catching the man in the shoulder and sending him sprawling.
The entire fight lasted less than ten seconds.
When the dust settled, all six assassins were on the ground, groaning. Smith stood in the center of the arena, barely breathing hard, a slight smile on his face.
"Holy shit," Fox breathed from the observation area. The red-haired woman leaned over the railing, eyes wide with disbelief. "Smith, that was incredible!"
Wesley stood next to her, equally stunned. "I've never seen anyone move that fast. GOD is really living up to the title."
Smith walked over to help the Butcher sit up. The big man winced, one hand pressed to his ribs.
"I think that's enough sparring for today, uncles."
The Butcher let out a pained laugh. "You think? Kid, if I wasn't built like a tank, you'd have broken half my bones." He shook his head in amazement. "At least in terms of hand-to-hand combat, you've graduated. Hell, you've surpassed us."
The others were picking themselves up, each one sporting fresh bruises. Cross rotated his shoulder, grimacing. "I activated bullet time the moment you moved. Didn't help at all. You were still faster."
Mr. X nodded slowly, his analytical mind already working through what had just happened. "Agreed. Your combat skills are now beyond what we can teach you. Whatever happened to you, Smith, it's changed everything."
The Repairman dusted himself off. "You're officially qualified to carry the title GOD. No question about it."
Smith's smile widened. He'd worked his entire life for this moment, for their approval. But he knew the truth. This victory wasn't earned through years of training alone.
It was because of the system.
Two Days Earlier - Smith's Room
Smith had been born in this world, but his memories belonged to someone else. Someone from a place called Earth. A normal guy named Ethan who'd lived a normal life, worked a normal job, and spent his free time playing mobile games.
Dragon Ball Z Dokkan Battle had been his favorite. He'd stayed up too late one night grinding through events, finally plugging his phone in to charge before passing out. When he'd woken up, everything had changed.
He'd been a baby again, lying in the wreckage of some kind of machine, surrounded by armed strangers who'd decided to raise him as their own. The Fraternity. A group of elite killers from a movie he vaguely remembered watching once.
But that wasn't what had really shocked him.
What shocked him was the Captain America exhibit at the Smithsonian. The massive Stark Industries building dominating the New York skyline.
He wasn't in the Wanted universe anymore.
He was in Marvel.
The knowledge had been both terrifying and thrilling. He knew what was coming. Thanos. The Snap. Half of all life in the universe turning to dust. He'd watched it happen on a movie screen in his old life, eaten popcorn while heroes died.
Now he was living in that reality.
For eighteen years, he'd trained. Learned everything the Fraternity could teach him. The Exterminator had shown him chemistry, how to create poisons and explosives. The Gunsmith had taught him curve bullets, bending shots around obstacles through pure skill and physics. The Repairman had drilled combat techniques into him until they were pure instinct. The Butcher had taught him knife work, even how to slice bullets out of the air. The Pharmacist had shared the secrets of the wax baths, the recovery treatments that kept assassins in peak condition.
Mr. X and Cross had tried to teach him bullet time, but it hadn't worked. Apparently, it was genetic, passed through specific bloodlines. Smith didn't have those bloodlines.
He'd worked hard anyway. Become skilled. Participated in missions. Been a good little child soldier for the people who'd taken him in.
But he'd always known it wouldn't be enough. Not for what was coming.
That's where the golden finger came in.
The Dragon Ball Z Dokkan Battle game had come with him somehow, transformed into something more. For eighteen years, it had been locked, showing nothing but a loading screen whenever he'd tried to access it. He'd almost given up hope that it would ever activate.
Then, on his eighteenth birthday, everything had changed.
The system had finally loaded.
Smith sat on his bed now, eyes closed, focusing on the interface that only he could see. It was nothing like the game he remembered. All the gacha mechanics, the currency systems, the fancy animations, they were gone. What remained was simpler. More powerful.
Three functions. Three wishes.
ITEM SUMMON
CHARACTER SUMMON
PARTNER SUMMON
And a backpack for storing whatever he obtained.
The system had explained the rules immediately. Each function could be used once, right now. But after that, there was a catch. A big one.
When he was born, seven Dragon Balls had fallen with him. They'd scattered across the world, turning to stone as they landed. Now, with the system active, they would reactivate. Someone could gather them, summon the dragon, and make a wish.
After that wish was granted, Smith would get three more draws. One of each type.
The Dragon Balls' power was tied directly to his own strength. Right now, they were probably equivalent to Earth's Dragon Balls from the early Dragon Ball series. Weak by cosmic standards, but still capable of incredible things. As he grew stronger, they would evolve. Namekian Dragon Balls. The Black Star Balls. Eventually, maybe even the Super Dragon Balls that could grant any wish across multiple universes.
He was like the Guardian of Earth or the Grand Elder of Namek. The creator and sustainer of the Dragon Balls.
Which meant he needed to get stronger. Fast.
Smith opened his eyes and focused on the first option.
ITEM SUMMON
The interface shifted. His own figure appeared at the bottom of the screen, hands raised in a familiar fighting pose. Above him, a small planet floated in space, covered in glowing dots. As he focused on individual dots, labels appeared.
Saiyan Attack Pod.
Namekian Spaceship.
Ultra Divine Water.
Dragon Radar.
Battle Suit (1st Gen).
Battle Suit (2nd Gen).
Capsule Corp Capsule (Single).
Capsule Corp Capsule (Box).
Scouter.
Gravity Chamber.
Senzu Bean.
And dozens more that were just lights, their contents hidden.
Smith selected the draw.
His miniature figure drew back its hands, energy gathering between them. "Ka... me... ha... me... HA!"
The blue beam shot upward and struck one of the dots. It shattered in a flash of light.
CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE RECEIVED: SCOUTER (2ND GENERATION)
An object materialized in Smith's hand. He looked down at the green and black device, a slight frown on his face. Not a Senzu Bean, which could heal any injury and was basically an extra life. Not a Battle Suit, which would have been way better than any bulletproof vest.
But still. A Scouter. He'd always wanted one of these as a kid.
He set it aside and focused on the next draw.
CHARACTER SUMMON
The interface changed again. This time, the small planet was covered in even more lights. As Smith examined them, he recognized faces from the early Dragon Ball series.
Kid Goku.
Kid Krillin.
Bulma.
Tien Shinhan.
Chiaotzu.
Yamcha.
Kid Chi-Chi.
Ox-King.
Master Roshi.
Launch...
All the early characters, before power levels went completely insane. Before Super Saiyan. Before they could blow up planets with a sneeze.
Still, even early Dragon Ball characters were superhuman. Bulletproof. Fast enough to dodge lightning. Strong enough to shatter boulders with their bare hands.
"Ka... me... ha... me... HA!"
Another dot shattered.
CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE RECEIVED: YAMCHA (DESERT BANDIT) CHARACTER CARD
A card appeared in Smith's hand, showing a young man in desert robes, a sword at his side, and a cocky grin on his face. This was Yamcha before he became Master Roshi's student. When he was still a bandit living in the wasteland with Puar.
Information flooded Smith's mind as he examined the card.
Skills: Wolf Fang Fist, Wolf Fang Wind Fist
Use this card to gain Yamcha's bloodline and abilities.
Smith didn't hesitate. He activated the card.
The transformation was instant and overwhelming. Power flooded his body, rewriting him on a cellular level. His muscles became denser, stronger. His bones hardened. His reflexes sharpened to superhuman levels. Knowledge of fighting techniques he'd never learned filled his mind, muscle memory from someone else's life becoming his own.
When it was over, Smith stood up and threw a practice punch. His fist moved so fast it was almost invisible, the air cracking from the speed.
He grinned. This was incredible.
One more draw.
PARTNER DRAW
The final interface showed more familiar faces.
Puar.
Oolong.
Turtle.
King Furry.
Upa.
Bora.
Android 8.
…
Support characters. Companions. Some of them had useful abilities. Puar could shapeshift. Oolong too, though with a time limit. Android 8 was actually pretty strong in the early series.
"Ka... me... ha... me... HA!"
CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE RECEIVED: PUAR
A small blue cat appeared in the air and dropped into Smith's arms with a surprised squeak.
"Mrow?" Puar looked up at Smith with big, innocent eyes. Then, seeming to understand something instinctively, the little cat smiled. "Master!"
Smith scratched Puar behind the ears, and the cat purred happily. According to the system information, Puar had two abilities available right now. Blade Attack, a simple offensive move, and Puar's Help, some kind of support technique.
Not the strongest partner, but Puar was loyal, intelligent, and could shapeshift. That had potential.
"Welcome to the team, buddy."
As Smith completed his three wishes, something changed in the world outside. Seven stones scattered across the globe began to glow. The orange spheres within them pulsed with light, star appearing in their centers.
The Dragon Balls were active again.