The wastelands of the ruined city stood silent. Charred buildings pierced the horizon like broken teeth, and the wind howled between their hollow frames. It was the kind of silence that didn't bring peace—it brought dread, as though the land itself was holding its breath.
Trunks and Rudra landed on the cracked remains of a wide avenue, their boots crunching against shattered glass and stone. The air was heavy, thick with smoke and faint traces of oil and burnt steel—the scars left behind by the androids' rampage.
Trunks tightened his fists. "This is it," he muttered, his voice carrying both determination and the weight of years of fear. "They're close… I can feel it."
Rudra closed his eyes, extending his awareness through his Shakti Sanchalan. His aura spread like invisible ripples through the ruins, brushing against faint sparks of unnatural ki. "Yes," Rudra whispered. "Their presence is foul, mechanical, and yet… disturbingly alive. They're waiting for us."
The sky above dimmed suddenly as two figures appeared on a crumbling rooftop ahead. The moment their shadows stretched across the avenue, the temperature seemed to drop.
Android 17 was the first to step forward, his black hair swaying slightly in the breeze, his smirk as sharp as a blade. He hopped down casually from the roof, landing without a sound, his dark eyes locked onto Trunks.
"Well, well," 17 drawled, hands in his pockets. "Look who decided to come crawling back. The boy who keeps running from the future. And… a new face?" His gaze slid toward Rudra, narrowing with curiosity. "This one… doesn't belong here."
Android 18 followed, descending with the grace of a predator. Her cold blue eyes scanned Rudra from head to toe before lingering on Trunks. "I thought we'd killed off everyone who mattered by now," she said flatly. "But you just keep surviving, don't you, Trunks? It's almost impressive."
Trunks' jaw tightened. "This ends today," he snapped, gripping the hilt of his sword.
17 chuckled, a low, amused sound that echoed across the ruins. "Oh? You think you're ready? You've tried before. You failed before. What's different now?"
Before Trunks could answer, Rudra stepped forward. His aura shimmered faintly, not flaring yet but enough to draw attention. His calm gaze locked on the androids, his voice steady and unshaken.
"What's different," Rudra said, "is that you face me as well. Your reign of destruction ends here."
18 tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a faint smirk. "You sound confident. But confidence doesn't mean much against perfection."
The air grew heavier as the androids' presence pressed outward. Unlike normal ki, it wasn't a natural life-force—it was a suffocating, oppressive energy, mechanical yet eerily endless. Rudra felt the weight of it pressing on his senses, but his calm didn't falter.
17 spread his arms lazily, smirking. "Here's how this goes: you fight, you struggle, and then you die. That's the only ending this world allows."
Trunks' aura burst to life, golden sparks dancing as his Super Saiyan form ignited. His hair flared upward, eyes glowing with fury. "No," he shouted. "This time, we're the ones writing the ending!"
The ground trembled beneath him, chunks of debris floating from the sheer force of his ki.
Rudra's aura expanded in response—not golden, but deep, luminous, carrying the weight of ancient power. His energy shimmered with controlled intensity, resonating like the steady hum of the universe itself. His voice cut through the tension:
"You've destroyed lives without remorse. Today, you face judgment."
For the first time, 18's smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of wariness. She exchanged a glance with 17, whose own smile twisted into something sharper.
The androids began to walk forward, their steps slow, deliberate, almost taunting. The echo of their boots against the broken pavement sounded like a war drum.
17 spoke, his tone playful but edged with malice. "You think you're hunters… but you've walked into the den of wolves."
18's eyes narrowed, her voice like ice. "Let's see how long your resolve lasts when you're choking on your own despair."
The four warriors now stood in the middle of the ruined avenue, the wind swirling around them, carrying the tension like a storm about to break. No one moved. It was the stillness before lightning splits the sky, the silence before worlds collide.
Trunks' knuckles whitened around his sword. Rudra steadied his breathing, already drawing on his Prana Shastra, aligning every thread of energy within him.
The androids smiled, cold, merciless, unyielding.
And the battle of fates was about to begin.
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