[This is a translation of a Dragonball Book I found. Previously it was being translated by another author, however I found that translation to be of low quality, and have taken it upon myself to improve upon it.]
[Raw: 龍珠,這個孫悟飯過於逆天!From novel543 . com ]
[I plan to properly localize this book so it doesn't contain talk of cultivation, random Chinese characters and text, and ensure it actually reads like a proper book. I've never translated anything before, but I have a good feeling that I can improve upon it better than those before me.]
[My drive to keep writing this is powered by social peer pressure and support! I accept both criticism and support equally! I would love to hear your feedback!]
In the year 765, Goku contracted a dangerous heart virus and died suddenly.
In the year 766, Trunks was born. That very same year, Dr. Gero, a remnant of the Red Ribbon Army, awakened the twin Androids named Lapis and Lazuli, better known as 17 and 18.
The Z Fighters, with no other options, were forced to confront them.
Afterward, Yamcha, Tien Shinhan, Chiaotzu, Krillin, Vegeta, and Piccolo were killed one after another, leaving the world with little hope.
Only nine-year-old Gohan survived by coincidence, as he was away collecting the Dragon Balls.
Twelve years passed quietly.
Now it is the year 778.
The sky is black like ink, dark clouds blotting out the sky and wisps of foul smoke fill the air. The ground is shattered, collapsed and rotting buildings are the only visible feature of the grim terrain and a moldy, foul-smelling breeze fills the air.
The only way to look at the situation, is nearly hopeless.
This is the dark future of Trunks, the hero from another, nearly hopeless timeline.
In the ruins of a city destroyed by the Androids:
A violent gust of wind swept across the ground, lifting half of a yellowed newspaper from the ground, the wind carrying it high into the air and off into the distance.
In the rubble of the ruined city, stood a small but noticeable mound of dirt.
The mound is clearly a grave, not an uncommon sight over the last few years.
Several flowers of different colors were laid atop the grave, the ground around it tended to carefully.
In front of the grave, several bananas, a few apples, and a bottle of water are neatly arranged as offerings for the dearly departed.
The soil is fresh, clearly only having recently been pulled from the ground. The offerings atop the grave still entirely fresh, with no sign of deterioration or aging. More than most people are even able to provide now for the dead.
Obviously, this is a brand new grave. Unfortunately, there is no headstone, so its impossible to tell who would be buried here.
*Scrape... scrape...*
At that moment, a faint sound can heard from beneath the soil.
The small mound of grave dirt shook- *Crunch!*
After several long minutes, the soil on top was pushed outward, rolling down in all directions. A pale hand covered in dirt and mud clawing its way out of the grave, muffled groans emerging from under the soil. Any normal person would have immediately assumed the person beneath the dirt to be a zombie, having returned from the grave. These suspicions would only be reinforced by the missing arm and pale complexion.
His body is covered in wounds from head to toe, horrible burns and bleeding cuts littering his body. He is extremely weak and frail, despite his extremely toned body, he looks like he could be killed by a stiff breeze.
Just crawling out of his own grave had already drained almost all of what was left of his strength.
He lay flat on the ground, trying to catch his breath as he takes deep and greedy gasps of air as he lays half buried in the ground still, struggling to sit up in place.
Once seated, he spits out the dirt in his mouth— "Ptoo, ptoo!" —he uses his only remaining hand, the one on his right side, to pinch his nose and blow out the sand inside, coughing again and hacking up another glob of mud from his throat.
After clearing out his mouth and nose, the young man panted heavily, eyes barely able to stay open as he looked around in confusion.
"Where… is this? Where am I?"
As soon as he thought this, he grips his head tightly, screaming as he begins to keenly understand what it would feel like to have an ice pick driven violently into his skull, feeling like his skull is splitting in two with intense pain.
"Ugh—"
His hand clenched his head, tearing out strands of hair.
He buries his head between his legs, letting out a low roar, flecks of clotted blood escaping his mouth as he writhes and shouts.
Amid waves of pain, a flood of memories surged into his mind.
A few seconds later his eyes are wide open as he pants hard, the air he had been struggling for moments ago leaving his body and entering again quickly now, he weakly wipes away the beading sweat from his forehead. His entire body is soaked in cold sweat, although its hard to tell if it is due to the sudden shock, or his already low body heat, that is only now slowly rising again.
He has been reborn.
This is the Dragon Ball world, and he is Gohan.
But the Gohan who had become Super Saiyan 2 at the age of nine and defeated Perfect Cell.
He is the one-armed Gohan of another, darker timeline. The original Gohan from the first, abandoned timeline.
At the moment, his left arm is currently severed from the shoulder, leaving him with only his right arm.
There is also a striking scar over his right eye. If it had been any deeper, the consequences would have been very dire, likely leaving him without an eye, or maybe killing him outright.
And all of this was done by humanities greatest threat. The Androids.
The scar on his face was left from a battle with them years ago.
His left arm had been blown off by Android 18 over a year ago, while he was saving Trunks.
Even the severe injuries he is currently dealing with were caused by Android 18.
There is a hatred that will never go away between the two of them. Android 18 has cost him far too much to ever forgive.
Android 18 didn't just his family, or his friends. She had even killed 'him'.
Those two monsters, who take pleasure in slaughter and destruction, they had killed hundreds of millions of humans in the span of a single year.
If he hadn't transmigrated here, and provided Gohan's body with just the smallest sliver of his own nearly microscopic Ki reserves, then this would have been the end of Gohan without a doubt.
There would have been absolutely no way for him to crawl out of his grave.
Those two souls, not unlike the fusion typically demonstrated by Namekians, had fused into one being in a single instant, no longer distinguishable from one another, and in that moment, the strength of the resulting soul grew many times more powerful than the sum of its parts.
The physical body, which has been grievously wounded and on the brink of death, also regained a tiny bit of its strength back because of this astronomically improbable miracle.
"*Cough! Shlllick- ptoo!*"
Gohan spat out another mouthful of muddy phlegm and blood, then picked up the bottle of purified water in front of his grave, clamping the bottle between his legs and twisting the cap open with what little energy his body can provide.
Struggling to lift the bottle, with a shaky hand he tilted his head back and gulped down several mouthfuls, draining the entire bottle in one go. It only took a few moments after that for him to eat all the bananas and apples as well, his body gaining a little bit of energy, enough to keep him alive for a while longer.
They were offerings for him anyway, it would be a waste to leave them, and he desperately needs them.
In a world that is in the middle of an apocalypse, wasting food is no different from a horrific sin.
What's more, his body now needs the energy to heal his wounds and keep his heart beating.
The offerings in front of his grave are nothing more than a drop in the bucket, completely insufficient to fuel his Saiyan body.
Gohan sat cross-legged in front of the grave, trying to feel his body and gauge his condition.
"Looks like I don't have a system. Gamers Body would have been really handy right about now..."
He lets out a sigh, then slowly stood up on shaky legs, carefully propping himself up on his hand as he gets to his feet.
As he moved, his body immediately protested, the immense amount of punishment he had endured sending tearing pain through him. It doesn't help that his body had likely already started the process of decomposing to a minor degree, he is likely in even worse condition than he had been in when he actually died, although at this point its hard to say if he actually had fully died at the time he was buried... considering he was laying face first in a puddle and had a mouth full of water and mud, he is under the impression that he was absolutely dead.
"Gah—this hurts way too much…" Gohan grimaced, sweat rolling down his forehead.
He has absolutely no idea how many bones are broken, or how much of his body is suffering internal bleeding. Based on the ringing in his ears, sensitivity to light, blurry vision and other issues, its safe to say he at least has a concussion, if not other brain issues.
But his willpower is almost unbreakable, even more so now that his soul is stronger— although his whole body is in absolute agony, it's still within what he can endure for now. His mental training, Ki, and willpower. These things are what keep him moving, the head injuries are likely the most serious, but his Ki keeps it from becoming a worse problem and keeps his mind sharp enough to function at a basic level.
The most urgent thing right now is to find a safe place to hide and properly recover from his injuries.
Otherwise, if he dies again right after being reborn, this struggle will all be for nothing, and the world will be doomed to destruction in the near future, whether it be by the Androids, or new godly threats looming on the horizon.
The energy in his body is pitifully low, but he can still fly, though he is slow, staggered, and almost falls from the sky as he does so. After determining the direction by sensing Trunk's Ki, his battered and nearly dead form slowly fly toward Capsule Corp.
Given the current situation, going to Bulma's place is the best choice.
…
Capsule Corporation had been attacked by the androids several years ago. Most of its equipment and research had been totally destroyed, and it no longer possessed much of its former glory.
However, the soul of Capsule Corporation— Bulma —is still alive.
As long as Bulma is breathing, Capsule Corp will continue to exist.
After the attack, Bulma had moved Capsule Corp to a remote, isolated corner of West City and Gohan knows that since the last attack on the company years ago, the androids had never returned to destroy it before they were killed by Trunks in the original series.
Therefore, Capsule Corp is, at least for now, a safe place to go.
At the very least, it will be safe for the next few years.
More importantly, Gohan needs to tell Bulma and Trunks that he is still alive.
Trunks was likely the one to bury him. If nothing else, he needs to see him. He is heartbroken, he is sure of it. He needs to be there for him, he can't leave the burden of the worlds fate on his shoulders. Not alone. If he can do anything to help lessen that weight, he has to.
…
One hour later.
Gohan finally made it to Capsule Corp.
It's only a little over a hundred kilometers away, but this time it took him over a full hour to get here. That alone shows just how weak he is right now.
If he was healthy, he wouldn't need even half a minute to cover such a short distance. Its not even a light warm up.
After landing, Gohan can feel his legs go weak, like his bones are made of broken glass, his vision darkening at the edges as he nearly collapses to the ground in a half dead heap.
With tremendous effort, he forces himself to stay conscious, staggering toward the familiar gate and knocking on it with soft, almost inaudible knocks due to the weakness in his arm.
"Who is it?" A clear childish voice shouts from inside the spherical building.
"Trunks… it's me…" Gohan rasps out, his throat feeling like someone rubbed it down with sandpaper and rocks. Which might not even be far from the truth due to the mouthful of mud and dirt. He felt as if his eyelids weighed a million tons, he feels like he is about to pass out, nearly hitting the physical limit of what his body can tolerate.
There is a soft 'whoosh' of displaced air as the door was quickly pulled open.
Trunks rushes out the door, eyes wide and hair whipping softly in the breeze he created from how fast he left the building.
He stares at Gohan, lips trembling uncontrollably, with tears already blurring his vision.
Gohan places his hand on his head, a weak grin on his face, eyes half shut and straining to remain open, twitching with the strain."Trunks… what did I teach you? Someone got this close to the house and you didn't even notice…"
After saying this, Gohan could no longer resist the overwhelming drowsiness, his lack of energy and the additional strain on his body finally becoming too much. His head tilting and his body going limp as he falls forward.
Trunks reacted instantly and catches him, eyes wide and breath hitching in his chest.
"I understand, Mister Gohan…" He shivers in place a bit, his breath getting a bit quick as he starts to shake a bit.
"Waaah—"
At that point, Trunks could no longer hold it in. He burst into tears, his face covered in both tears.
Even though Gohan was covered in dirt, Trunks was afraid his resulting tears and runny nose would drip onto Gohan's body, so he kept wiping his face with his sleeve, eventually smearing his whole face.
Bulma quickly rushed out as well, hearing Trunks crying.
When she sees Gohan, she lets out a soft gasp, her eyes also filling with tears, but as the only conscious adult, she forces herself not to cry out loud.
She takes a deep breath, then pats Trunks on the shoulder, "Stop crying. Hurry and carry Gohan to guest bedroom to rest. His injuries are extremely serious."
"Yes, Mom." Trunks glances back at Bulma, forcing himself to stop crying, and carefully carries Gohan into the house, taking care not to move too fast or aggravate his injuries further.