Outside West City, a vast lake lay like a jade mirror, reflecting blue sky and white clouds.
On the shore, a sprawling estate rested on emerald grass, backed by green mountains—so serene it felt like a hidden paradise.
Vitelli stepped off the aircraft with Goku still snoring on his shoulder, scanning the grand lakeside manor and sighing inwardly again.
"Bulma really is Bulma… Even the 'temporary place' is ridiculous."
Bulma directed robot servants into the building at once. Seeing Vitelli with Goku, she waved.
"Vitelli! Put Goku in a guest room and let him keep sleeping. And don't forget the time—we're eating soon. The chefs are already on their way with ingredients!"
"Got it. Don't worry."
Vitelli nodded, followed the robots inside, and dumped Goku onto a soft bed in a huge guest room.
Watching Goku smack his lips, roll over, and keep sleeping, Vitelli sighed. "Brat, you really know how to cause trouble."
With time to spare, he didn't go back immediately. Instead, he chose to train.
In the backyard, the old first-generation gravity room had been assembled quickly by robots.
Vitelli stepped in, operated the panel, and cranked gravity to the machine's absolute limit—
Three hundred times Earth gravity.
A massive invisible weight slammed down.
Vitelli sank slightly.
Three hundred times gravity—given how absurdly strong he'd become in his base state—was basically just a warm-up to keep his body sharp.
Sweat beaded quickly. Muscles trembled under pressure, bringing a familiar, satisfying fullness.
He inhaled, started doing basic push-ups, each one crisp and powerful. Hundreds flew by.
Time passed in sweat. Eventually, the built-in communicator chimed.
Vitelli stopped, walked over, and answered.
"Vitelli!"
Bulma's voice came through clearly. "The chef team you asked for is here. Ingredients are basically prepped. We're all in the dining room—come over!"
"Okay. Be right there."
He shut off gravity. The weight vanished, replaced by lightness.
After a quick shower and clean casual outfit, he headed to the estate's lavish dining room.
The moment he entered, rich aromas curled into him.
A long table overflowed with dishes like artworks—delicate cold appetizers, glazed roast ribs, seafood risotto, sushi piled like mountains, desserts jeweled with berries…
Top chefs from around the world were still finishing plate-ups in the kitchen.
In one corner, Goku—now awake—stared at the table, swallowing hard, a line of drool at his mouth.
Bulma stood arranging cutlery and flowers with brisk perfection.
"You're here!" she said. "Can we eat now? Or… are you about to start that secret thing you wouldn't tell me about?"
Her blue eyes shone with curiosity—and a faint, hidden anticipation Vitelli didn't catch.
Vitelli was about to answer when he saw Goku sneaking a hand toward a rib.
"Kakarot!"
Vitelli groaned. "You little pest—no sneaking food! We're not starting yet!"
Goku jerked his hand back like a scolded kitten, but his eyes stayed glued to the feast.
Vitelli walked over, flicked his forehead into a bump, and said, "Hey."
"Ow! That hurts, Vitelli!" Goku whined, clutching his head.
"Good. It's supposed to."
Vitelli snapped, "This table is for something important. Really important. After it's done, you can eat your fill. Until then, sit tight."
He shoved the pouting Goku toward Bulma. "Bulma, keep him under control."
Bulma snickered and grabbed Goku by the collar.
"You heard him. Behave, or you're not eating later."
With that chaos secured, Vitelli took a deep breath, picked up a dish, and walked to the center of the dining room holding it up.
Bulma and Goku stared at him like he'd grown a second head—Bulma curious, Goku hungry.
Vitelli cleared his throat and tilted his head slightly upward, as if calling someone on a phone.
His gaze seemed to pierce the ceiling and reach the stars.
"Whis! Mr. Whis! Can you hear me?"
"I've got the best, most delicious food in the universe right here!"
"Mr. Whis! I've prepared unbelievably tasty dishes! I guarantee you'll jump for joy!"
"Whis…"
Minutes ticked by.
Vitelli's calls echoed through the ornate hall.
Bulma's curiosity slowly turned to bafflement. She folded her arms, brows knitting.
Goku grew impatient. He tugged Bulma's sleeve and whispered loudly enough that everyone could hear.
"Bulma… did Vitelli go crazy? Grandpa used to say some animals go nuts and yell at the sky or trees nonstop… Vitelli kinda looks like that right now."
Bulma nearly laughed out loud. She covered her mouth, glared, and whispered back,
"Shh! Don't say that. Maybe… maybe it's some special… uh… pre-meal ritual?"
Even she knew how ridiculous that sounded.
Vitelli heard it, his temple twitching, but he kept calling.
Half an hour passed. Not a feather fell from the heavens.
Did he really not hear?
Or… is this not the main Dragon Ball timeline? Is there no Beerus or Whis here? Some GT line? Or a universe with no gods at all?
Vitelli's heart sank.
If that was true, his path upward would have to change entirely.
He sighed, ready to give up, turned to Bulma and Goku, and said helplessly,
"Fine, looks like there's no reply. Then we can—"
Before he could finish "eat"—
The air in the middle of the dining room rippled with a tiny sound.
A tall, slender figure appeared as if by instant movement.
He held a peculiar staff. His build was long and elegant, skin a strange blue-green hue. Most striking was his thick, white, broom-like hair.
"Ho ho ho~" he chuckled with a gentle rhythm, soothing and amused.
He studied Vitelli, then Bulma—wide-eyed—and Goku—totally lost.
"How rare," he said.
"To think in the lower realm there is still a mortal who remembers my name—and knows to summon me in such… tempting fashion. I can't refuse that kind of sincerity."
Vitelli's pupils shrank.
Beerus's attendant. The angel of Universe Seven. A being above even the God of Destruction.
He really came?!
Shock and a surge of wild joy nearly knocked Vitelli over.
He forced down his excitement, though his trembling fingers betrayed him.
"Ahem. Mr. Whis, hello. I'm glad you answered."
He gestured to the enormous table, glowing with top chefs' masterpieces.
"Since you're here… shall we eat first?"
Whis's eyes locked onto the table instantly. Curiosity turned into pure, childlike craving.
"Ho ho ho~" Whis chuckled again, tapping his staff lightly on the floor.
"That's an offer no one could refuse. Then allow me to be rude!"
His figure vanished—and reappeared at the head seat.
Vitelli's heart tightened at the effortless speed.
He motioned Bulma and Goku to sit. Bulma suppressed shock and tugged the still-confused Goku down beside Whis. Vitelli sat on Whis's other side.
"Please, Mr. Whis," Vitelli said.
Whis nodded slightly, scanned the dishes, and settled on a pristine steamed sea fish. He took up knife and fork with flawless elegance, cut a small piece, and tasted it—
Whis's purple eyes lit up like stars igniting.
He froze for a fraction of a second, then a blissful expression spread across his calm face.
He tilted his head back, eyes closed, savoring as if drinking the dawn of the universe itself.
"Mm~~~~!!" A long, satisfied hum escaped him.
"So… fresh and sweet!"
He opened his eyes, delighted.
"The flesh is as delicate as cream, melting on the tongue like a spring. The fish's ocean clarity is brought out perfectly—no hint of odor, only pure harmony of sea and meat. Ho ho ho~ Earth's chefs can cook at this level? Astonishing!"
He offered praise without restraint and moved on to the next dish—
A golden, crisp-skinned grilled rib glazed in secret sauce.
The moment it entered his mouth, his expression rose again.
While cutting and eating with incredible efficiency, he described the flavors like singing:
"Ah! That fragrance of fat bursting in the mouth! The chew of the meat and rich oil balance perfectly, and the sauce unfolds in layers—tart fruit notes neutralizing heaviness… Ho ho ho~ Rough but refined. Irresistible!"
Whis devoured dish after dish in that same serene, terrifyingly efficient rhythm.
Bulma stared, stunned, forgetting her own salad.
Finally, when Whis had tasted everything, he dabbed his mouth with a napkin, gazed at the empty, spotless plates, and smiled with pure satisfaction.
"Such a careful, heavenly spread… Vitelli, I assume you didn't prepare all this just to feed me, did you?"
His voice was soft, but it seemed to read straight into Vitelli's heart.
Vitelli inhaled. The moment had come.
"Yes. I do have a request."
He met Whis's eyes.
"I want to become stronger. I want to touch the deeper essence of power. I… want you to guide my training."
"Training?" Whis's pleased look faded into mild trouble.
"Teaching a mortal to train sounds like a hassle. Plans, progress checks, adjustments, and…" He glanced at Vitelli's enormous Saiyan aura. "Teaching a Saiyan like you will be even more work. One meal can't cover it."
He shook his head, clearly uninterested. "How about you—"
"Mr. Whis!"
A crisp voice cut in.
Bulma stood, blue eyes sharp with intelligence.
She knew Vitelli's hunger for strength. She also knew this man was the key.
She stepped beside Vitelli, offering a negotiator's smile.
"Maybe teaching him is troublesome. But if you agree, I can guarantee you this—every few days, whenever it suits you, we'll prepare a feast no less than today's. And often even better. Anything you want to taste, we'll do our best to make. How about that?"
"Ho ho ho?!"
Whis's eyes blazed even brighter than before.
"A feast like this every few days?"
He swallowed reflexively, as if tasting the ribs again.
Bulma held her confident smile. She knew she'd hit the weak spot.
Whis looked between her and Vitelli, seemingly fighting the hardest internal battle of his life.
At last he sighed dramatically.
"Ho ho ho… You leave me no choice."
He spread his hands. "For the sincerity of this lady—and for the future… agreement… I will accept this troublesome job."
"Thank you, Whis!" Vitelli surged to his feet, overjoyed. "Truly."
Bulma smiled in relief.
"I want to go too! Whis! I want to train too!"
Goku suddenly leapt up, eyes full of yearning.
Whis studied him a moment, then shook his head with faint annoyance.
"Goku, you're far too early. Your road has only just begun; your foundation is still shallow. Going there now would do you no good. The aura alone could crush you."
His refusal was absolute.
"When you become as strong as your friend here—well, as strong as he is now—then we can talk."
Goku's face fell… for three seconds.
Then his stomach growled and his eyes lit up again.
"Oh! I'm still not full!"
He bolted for the kitchen.
"There has to be more food!"
Vitelli and Bulma could only laugh helplessly.
Whis looked after him with mild amusement.
With matters settled, Whis didn't plan to linger.
He rose elegantly, nodded to Vitelli.
"Then shall we leave at once?"
"Wait a second, Mr. Whis."
Vitelli turned to Bulma.
Her smile faded into reluctance, even a little grievance. She stepped close and lightly held his hand.
"You're… leaving now?"
Vitelli squeezed her cool fingers, ruffled her short blue hair gently, and met her eyes with warmth.
"Don't worry. I have Instant Transmission, remember? I'll come back often. Once I've figured things out there, I'll take you for a visit. We'll even live there for a few months."
He leaned to her ear and whispered.
Bulma snorted with laughter, then glared like she was fierce.
"Hmph! If you stay away too long… I'll make you pay!"
"I know."
She finally released him.
Vitelli gave her a reassuring smile and walked to Whis.
Whis lifted his staff, signaling Vitelli to place a hand on his back.
Vitelli took one last breath, looked at Bulma and the home he'd been using, and rested his hand on Whis's strange attire.
No sound, no wind.
The crystal atop the staff glowed faintly.
A soft, dazzling light wrapped them both—like condensed stardust, sacred and beautiful.
In the blink of an eye, the light shot upward like a comet with a shimmering tail—and vanished into the depths of space.
Bulma saw only a streak of brilliance cut across the blue sky, gone in an instant.
The lively dining room was suddenly empty.
She stood alone, head tilted up, staring at the blank sky where he'd disappeared.
Sunlight poured through the windows, but couldn't warm the hollow drop in her chest.
From the kitchen, Goku's happy rummaging sounded faintly—making the silence heavier.
"Idiot…"
Bulma whispered softly, not sure if she meant him or herself.
She sighed, finally lowering her gaze.