They say that, scattered across the world,
there are seven balls.
Each of them carries within a crimson glow of the stars, as if yearning to captivate those who dare to touch them.
No one knows for certain who created them.
What is known… is that they never remain together for long.
Kings, warriors, and even entire civilizations have fallen for them, only to learn what happens when all seven are brought together.
The power to grant any wish lures both the noblest souls and the darkest hearts. And as the world moves on, the Dragon Balls endure… silent and scattered… awaiting any who dare challenge their fate.
...
"That's a fairy tale. And a poorly written one at that."
A blue-haired child was lying in bed in a completely luxurious room.
"You really are hard to impress, Miss Starch."
A caretaker was holding a children's storybook, she was sitting near the child.
"Seven spheres that can rewrite reality? Please. What is the logic behind that mechanism? Does a ball genie simply pop out to serve you?"
"It's a dragon, a majestic dragon and-"
"Dragons don't exist."
"Maybe they do."
"I have read the zoological archives. I know they don't."
The caretaker sighed, lowering the picture book she had been reading. She sat in a velvet armchair beside the bed, and forced a smile.
"Let's pretend they do. What would you wish for, Bulma?"
"What does my answer add to this conversation?"
"It adds the illusion that you are actually six years old, come on. Don't you want to be something when you grow up?"
Bulma looked at the book cover, then back at the caretaker.
"Are the parameters unlimited? Can I wish for anything?"
"Anything."
"Then I would wish to document the event, i would prove that something so scientifically impossible exists, and by doing so, become the undisputed greatest scientist in the world."
"Wait. Your wish... is just the proof itself?"
"If they existed, obviously. Think about it. I already possess everything material. Father is the wealthiest man alive. My intellect is already superior. The only challenge left would be convincing a planet of ignorant people that I found a magic dragon."
The caretaker opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat.
There was no counter-argument.
"Right, let's leave it at that, Miss Starch. Go to sleep."
"Good night."