"Son of a… I actually got turned into smoothie."
Luther gasped, the air rushing into his newly formed lungs burning like acid. He wasn't usually one for profanity—he liked to keep a cool, scholarly vibe—but when you've just spent the last sixty seconds as a pile of sentient ground beef, you get a pass.
He looked down at his hands. Pink, fresh skin was rapidly knitting over muscle fibers.
The teleportation hadn't been a travel method; it had been a trash compactor. It had squeezed every ounce of energy out of his cells, draining his life force to zero just to push him through the dimensional membrane. If he had arrived at night? He would have stayed a puddle of goo forever.
"Note to self," Luther gritted out, standing up on shaky legs. "Don't do that again until I'm at least planet-buster level."
First order of business: Clothes.
He was standing in the middle of a forest clearing, naked as the day he was born (or re-born), and while his Kryptonian pride was high, he didn't really want to flash the local wildlife.
He glanced up at the sun. It was bright, warm, and… tasty.
His cells were drinking it in greedily. This star was young and active. It felt like hooking a smartphone up to a supercharger. But Luther forced himself to hold back. He mentally throttled his absorption rate.
He was paranoid. Who knew what kind of radiation this sun put out? He didn't want to mutate into something weird. He just needed enough juice to not die.
Luther blurred into motion—slower than usual, but still faster than the eye could follow. He found a nearby road and swiped a set of clothes from a drying rack in someone's backyard. A simple t-shirt and baggy pants.
Now, where the hell was he?
He walked into the nearest town. It looked modern, maybe a bit retro-futuristic. Hovercars mixed with normal sedans. The architecture was domed and rounded.
And then he saw it.
Walking down the street, casually sipping a soda, was a dog. Not a dog on a leash. A six-foot-tall dog wearing a business suit and carrying a briefcase.
Luther blinked. Okay. Furries exist here. Good to know.
He turned his head and saw a massive billboard on the side of a building.
CAPSULE CORPORATION.
Luther stopped dead in his tracks. His Super Brain processed the logo, the dog-man, the architecture, and the general vibe in a nanosecond.
"No way," he whispered, a grin spreading across his face. "Dragon Ball?"
He had aimed for… well, he hadn't aimed at all. He just pushed the button. And he landed in the world of screaming monkey-men and laser beams.
This was the world where guys with gravity-defying hair could blow up planets by pointing a finger. The world where people ate enough food to power a small city in one sitting.
Luther leaned against a wall, his mind racing.
Okay, focus. What can I use here?
Being a Kryptonian was great, but this universe operated on a totally different power system. If he wanted to survive—and thrive—he needed to adapt.
Target One: The Dragon Balls.
Obviously. Seven magic orbs that grant any wish. Immortality? Infinite money? A sandwich? The dragon Shenron could do it all.
The only question was compatibility. Would a wish made here stick if he teleported back to Marvel? He didn't want to wish for "Invincibility," jump back to New York, and get shot in the face because the magic didn't transfer. It was a risk, but one worth investigating.
Target Two: Ki.
This was the big one.
In this universe, everyone except Broly seemed to be a martial arts wizard.
"Ki" wasn't just energy; it was life force. It was the cheat code of this reality.
Luther analyzed what he knew from the show. Without Ki, these guys were surprisingly squishy. A Super Saiyan God could get bruised by being dragged through ice if his guard was down. A guy who could destroy a galaxy could theoretically be hurt by a laser pistol if he wasn't paying attention.
It was the "Glass Cannon" theory. Their durability was active, not passive.
But with Ki? They could tank a Big Bang.
And the versatility was insane. Kryptonians were physical gods—they punched hard, moved fast, and shot heat. But Ki users? They were wizards.
Mind reading? Check. Goku did it to Krillin just by touching his head. Telepathy? Check. They were always chatting across galaxies. Teleportation? Instant Transmission was way cleaner than the meat-grinder method Luther just used. Matter creation? Piccolo could manifest clothes (the famous "Clothes Beam"). Healing? Dende and Buu could rebuild bodies from atoms.
"If I can learn Ki..." Luther mused, watching a hovercar zip by.
If he could combine his passive Kryptonian invulnerability (which was always on, 24/7) with the active defense and utility of Ki... he would be unstoppable.
Imagine a Superman who could teleport instantly without ripping space-time, sense enemies across the universe without needing to hear them, and heal himself if the sun went out.
"It's settled," Luther said, pushing off the wall. "I'm going to learn how to scream and glow."
He looked at the Capsule Corp building again.
"But first," he thought, his stomach rumbling—a rare sensation for him. "I wonder if I can find a restaurant that serves dinosaur meat?"
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