The heavy doors slid open with a metallic hiss, and the underground lab bathed the two warriors in a flood of warm artificial light. The air here smelled faintly of oil and circuits, but compared to the ruined silence above, it felt alive. Machines hummed softly, computers blinked with steady light, and the faint sound of rushing footsteps echoed from deep within.
Trunks stepped forward into the heart of the base, his voice breaking the silence with sudden warmth.
"Mom! I'm back!!"
The shout carried through the corridors of the lab, and for a moment everything seemed to freeze. Then, from a side passage, a familiar voice echoed, full of relief and love.
"Oh, Trunks—you're back!!"
A door burst open, and rushing into the lab came a woman whose face bore the marks of both genius and hardship. Her hair was tied back hastily, streaked with strands of gray, and her lab coat was smudged with grease and ink. Yet her eyes—bright, sharp, and overflowing with emotion—were unmistakable.
It was Bulma.
She hurried across the room, and before Trunks could even take another step, she wrapped her arms around him tightly.
"Trunks! I was so worried about you," Bulma whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You've been gone so long. Did you get hurt? Did something happen?"
Trunks hugged her back, his own eyes softening. "I'm fine, Mom. Really. Things went better than I expected."
For a brief moment, the horrors of their world faded, replaced by the simple warmth of mother and son reunited.
But then Bulma's eyes shifted—catching sight of the figure who stood quietly behind Trunks. Her expression changed, curiosity sharpening into cautious questioning.
She released her son and turned toward Rudra, her brow furrowing. "And… who is this? Trunks, you didn't come back alone."
Trunks straightened, nodding firmly. "That's right. Mom, this is Rudra. He's not from our timeline. He came here with me through the time machine."
Bulma's eyes widened. "Another… time traveler?"
Trunks shook his head. "No. Not exactly. He's someone I met in the past. Someone who's unbelievably strong."
At those words, Rudra stepped forward. He bowed his head slightly in respect, his posture calm but confident. His eyes glimmered with quiet strength.
Trunks continued, his voice carrying the weight of everything they had experienced together. "Mom… Rudra is unlike anyone I've ever seen. You wouldn't believe the power he holds. Even I couldn't keep up with him. He's… he's the reason I'm standing here right now."
Bulma blinked, her lips parting in shock. She turned fully to face Rudra now, truly seeing him. For years she had carried the crushing burden of knowing her son fought alone, always standing against overwhelming enemies with no one at his side. And now, for the first time, someone stood beside him—not as a burden, but as an equal.
Her voice softened, filled with gratitude. "So… you helped my son. You lifted some of the weight off his shoulders. Thank you, Rudra."
Rudra gave a faint smile, his tone light but reassuring. "There's no need for thanks. Trunks fights with a fire that inspires everyone around him. All I did was give him someone to share the battlefield with. A warrior shouldn't carry the entire world alone."
Bulma exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing. Her eyes grew misty for just a second before she forced a smile. "Still… you have no idea how much this means to me. He's all I have left."
Rudra's smirk widened just a fraction, and with a deliberate lightness in his tone, he added, "Don't worry. I don't plan on giving you a reason to scold me later."
For the first time in what felt like years, Bulma laughed softly. The atmosphere in the lab shifted, the heaviness lightened, if only slightly.
Rudra turned to glance around the room, his sharp gaze moving from the glowing machines to the unfinished weapons and piles of notes scattered across tables. "I can see you've worked tirelessly. But let me share some news from the past… it might ease your worries."
Both Trunks and Bulma looked at him curiously.
Rudra crossed his arms and spoke with calm confidence. "Back in the past, everyone is training harder than ever. Goku, Gohan, Piccolo, and the others—they're pushing themselves beyond their limits. They're preparing for the Androids, determined not to repeat what happened here. Each day, they fight to grow stronger. Each day, they move closer to the power they'll need to survive."
Bulma blinked, hope flickering faintly in her weary eyes. "They're… training? All of them?"
Rudra nodded. "Yes. Even Gohan is throwing himself into it, determined not to be a burden. And trust me when I say, their growth is something you wouldn't believe. They will be ready."
Trunks's lips curved into a small smile, his chest swelling with pride. "That sounds like Dad… and Master Goku… always pushing themselves. I knew they wouldn't just sit around."
Bulma placed her hand on her chest, as though steadying her racing heart. For years she had lived in a world where hope was scarce, where survival came only through hiding and running. And now, to hear that in another timeline, humanity's defenders were preparing with such determination—it was like being given a glimpse of sunlight in the middle of an endless storm.
"Thank you," Bulma whispered softly, her voice breaking just a little. "Thank you for telling me that. It means more than you know."
Rudra shrugged lightly, his tone deliberately playful again. "Well, if I didn't tell you, you'd probably just scold me for keeping secrets later."
Bulma chuckled through her lingering tears.
For a brief moment, the lab—usually a place filled only with the cold hum of machinery and the pressing weight of survival—felt almost warm. The presence of Rudra, his calm reassurance, and the unshakable bond between Trunks and his mother filled the underground chamber with something rare in this future: hope.
And though the war with the Androids was far from over, for the first time in a long while, it felt as though they were not facing it alone.
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