Sleep did not come easily to Marcus that night.
He lay in his bed at Capsule Corporation, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing through the implications of everything he had observed since arriving in this world. The comfortable mattress and climate-controlled room should have made rest effortless, but his thoughts refused to settle.
Something was wrong with this timeline.
It had been nagging at him since his first moments of consciousness in this universe, but he had been too overwhelmed by his new existence to give it proper consideration. Now, with Unity Mode mastered and some breathing room established, the inconsistencies were impossible to ignore.
Beerus and Whis are here, Marcus thought, turning the problem over in his mind. They're living at Capsule Corporation, eating Earth food, casually observing training sessions. But that's not how the timeline should work.
In the Dragon Ball Z he remembered—the anime he had watched countless times in his previous life—Beerus and Whis didn't appear until years after Majin Buu's defeat. The Battle of Gods arc took place during a birthday party for Bulma, a celebration that occurred long after the dust had settled from the Buu saga.
But here, now, the destroyer god and his attendant were already present. They had been here during his first training session with Goku and Vegeta. They had watched his spars, observed his transformations, and apparently had enough interest in Earth to stick around indefinitely.
Why?
Marcus sat up, abandoning any pretense of sleep. His truth-seeking orbs floated around him in their usual pattern, their presence a constant reminder of how far removed he was from his old life.
Let me think about this logically, he told himself. What else is different about this timeline?
The list was longer than he was comfortable with.
Majin Buu had been far stronger than the canon version. The monster had absorbed Android 18 instead of killing her outright, and there had been other energy signatures within him—beings that Marcus couldn't identify but knew shouldn't have been there. Whatever Buu had consumed in this timeline, it had pushed him beyond anything the original series had shown.
Vegito had been struggling. In the anime, the fused Saiyan had dominated Super Buu completely, toying with the creature even after absorbing Gohan. But the Vegito Marcus had encountered was genuinely threatened, pushed to his limits by an enhanced opponent.
If I hadn't intervened, Marcus realized with a chill, Vegito might have actually lost. Buu might have absorbed him, gained the power of a Potara fusion, and become truly unstoppable.
That wasn't how the story was supposed to go. That wasn't even close.
He rose from the bed and walked to the window, looking out at the darkened Capsule Corporation grounds. In the distance, he could sense Beerus and Whis's energy signatures—impossibly vast, casually divine, completely out of place in the immediate post-Buu timeline.
What kind of world did I land in?
The question haunted him. If this wasn't the Dragon Ball Z he knew, then his knowledge of future events was unreliable at best and dangerously misleading at worst. The Tournament of Power might happen differently, or not at all. Frieza's resurrection might play out in unexpected ways. Threats he was counting on might be stronger, weaker, or entirely absent.
I can't assume anything, Marcus concluded grimly. I need to treat this universe as if I know nothing about it. Because in a very real sense, I don't.
The next morning, Marcus sought out Bulma.
The blue-haired scientist was in her lab as usual, surrounded by holographic displays and half-finished projects. She looked up when he entered, surprise flickering across her features.
"You're up early. Couldn't sleep?"
"Something like that." Marcus took a seat across from her workstation. "I need to ask you some questions. About the history of this world."
Bulma raised an eyebrow. "History? I thought you were more interested in training than studying."
"Training is important, but knowledge is equally valuable." Marcus chose his words carefully. "I'm from a different universe, remember. There are things about this world that I don't understand—things that might be important for me to know."
"Fair enough." Bulma pushed aside her current project and gave him her full attention. "What do you want to know?"
"Beerus and Whis. How long have they been on Earth?"
"The God of Destruction and his attendant?" Bulma tapped her chin thoughtfully. "About two years now, I think. They showed up shortly after the Cell Games, looking for something called the Super Saiyan God. Goku and Vegeta didn't know what that was at the time, but Beerus was intrigued enough by their potential to stick around."
Marcus felt his stomach drop. "Two years? They've been here for two years?"
"Give or take. Why? Is that strange?"
Strange doesn't begin to cover it, Marcus thought. In the original timeline, Beerus had slept for decades between appearances, only awakening after prophetic dreams about the Super Saiyan God. He shouldn't have been active during the Cell Games era at all, let alone taken up residence on Earth.
"In my universe," Marcus said slowly, "beings like Beerus typically don't involve themselves with mortal worlds for extended periods. Their presence here is... unexpected."
"Well, Whis says they're mostly here for the food." Bulma shrugged. "Beerus has a thing for Earth cuisine, apparently. As long as we keep him fed and entertained, he doesn't cause too much trouble."
"Too much trouble?"
"There was an incident a while back. Beerus got angry about something—I don't even remember what—and almost destroyed the planet. Goku managed to calm him down by promising to find stronger opponents to fight." Bulma's expression darkened. "It was terrifying. Even Vegeta was scared, and he never admits to being scared of anything."
Marcus absorbed this information, trying to reconcile it with what he knew. Beerus threatening Earth wasn't unusual—that happened in the Battle of Gods arc. But the timing was all wrong. The circumstances were different. The entire sequence of events had been scrambled.
"What about Frieza?" he asked. "Is he still dead?"
"Frieza? Yeah, Goku killed him years ago. Trunks finished off the version that came to Earth." Bulma looked curious. "Why do you ask?"
"Just trying to understand the major threats this world has faced." Marcus filed away the information. At least that part of history seemed consistent with canon. "And the androids? Cell?"
"All dealt with. The androids—well, 17 and 18—are actually allies now. 18 is married to Krillin, if you can believe it. And Cell was destroyed by Gohan during the Cell Games." Bulma smiled at the memory. "That was something else. Gohan was just a kid, but he completely outclassed Cell in the end."
So some things are the same, Marcus noted. But not everything. The major beats are there, but the details are different.
He spent the next hour questioning Bulma about other historical events—the Saiyan invasion, the Namek saga, the Android arc. Most of it aligned with his memories, but there were discrepancies. Vegeta had been slightly stronger when he first arrived on Earth. Frieza had achieved a new transformation during their battle on Namek, one that Marcus didn't recognize from the anime. The androids had been more numerous, with 19 and 20 accompanied by additional models that had required the Z-Fighters' combined efforts to defeat.
This is a divergent timeline, Marcus realized. Not completely different, but altered. Like someone took the original story and... twisted it.
The question was: who had done the twisting? And why?
After his conversation with Bulma, Marcus needed time to think.
He flew to his usual training spot—the mountain peak that had become his personal sanctuary—and settled into a meditative pose. The natural energy of the area flowed into him, calming his racing thoughts and helping him focus.
Let's approach this systematically, he told himself. What do I know for certain?
First: he had been reborn in a universe that resembled Dragon Ball Z but wasn't identical to it. The major characters existed, the general storyline had occurred, but specific details were different.
Second: his reincarnation had given him the powers of Naruto's Six Paths Sage Mode, permanently merged with his being. This wasn't a temporary state or a borrowed ability—it was who he was now.
Third: beings from outside the normal power structure—like Beerus and Whis—were taking an unusual interest in Earth. Their presence suggested that something about this world had attracted divine attention.
Could my arrival be connected to the timeline changes? Marcus wondered. Did my reincarnation somehow alter history? Or did I arrive in a world that was already different?
He didn't have enough information to answer those questions. But he could make some educated guesses.
If the timeline changes had existed before his arrival, then he was simply a newcomer in an already-altered reality. The differences were pre-existing, and he would need to adapt to them.
But if his reincarnation had caused the changes—if his presence in this universe had somehow rippled backward through time—then he might be responsible for the divergences. Every difference, every deviation from canon, could be traced back to him.
That's a terrifying thought, Marcus admitted. Being responsible for changes I don't understand to events I wasn't present for.
He pushed the concern aside for now. There was no way to confirm either theory, and worrying about it wouldn't change his situation. What mattered was dealing with the present—the world as it existed now, regardless of how it had come to be.
Speaking of the present, he thought, I should probably continue training. Standing still is not an option, especially with divine-level beings taking an interest in me.
Whis's offer from the previous night echoed in his memory. The angel had suggested that Marcus had untapped potential, power waiting to be awakened. Whether that was genuine insight or manipulation, there was truth to the underlying premise.
Unity Mode was powerful, but it wasn't his ceiling. There had to be more.
What haven't I tried yet?
He considered his abilities, running through the mental catalogue he had developed over the past weeks. Six Paths Sage Mode provided his baseline—enhanced senses, truth-seeking orbs, connection to natural energy. Unity Mode pushed beyond that, fusing his energy types into a balanced whole and manifesting the physical changes of tails and ears.
And then there was the Kurama construct.
Marcus had used it against Vegito during their first meeting, creating a massive avatar of orange energy that had dwarfed even the fused Saiyan. It had been devastating, a projection of pure power that could crush mountains with a swipe of its tails.
But he had only used it in his base state.
What would happen, Marcus wondered, if I combined the Kurama construct with Unity Mode?
The thought was intriguing. Unity Mode enhanced everything about him—speed, strength, energy output, sensory perception. If he layered the Kurama construct on top of that enhanced state, the result should be proportionally more powerful.
Should be, he reminded himself. But I won't know for sure until I try.
He rose from his meditative position, truth-seeking orbs adjusting their formation around him. The mountain peak was isolated enough that he wouldn't damage anything important if the experiment went wrong.
Here goes nothing.
Marcus reached for the balanced center within himself, initiating the Unity Mode transformation. Golden light blazed from his body as his aura intensified. The truth-seeking orbs expanded and shifted color, becoming burnished gold. Fox ears sprouted from his head, and nine tails unfurled behind him.
The familiar power of Unity Mode flooded through him, that incredible sensation of harmony and strength that he had come to know over the past weeks. He held it steady, making sure the transformation was stable before attempting the next step.
Now for the Kurama construct.
He gathered his energy, focusing on the image of the nine-tailed fox that had become his signature technique. In his base state, the construct manifested as orange energy—a projection of power shaped by his will into a massive avatar.
But in Unity Mode, his energy was different. Golden rather than orange. Balanced rather than raw. The construct would reflect that change.
Marcus extended his arms and released the energy.
What emerged was beyond anything he had created before.
The construct that formed around him wasn't orange—it was pure, brilliant gold, matching the color of his Unity Mode aura. It blazed with divine light, its features sharper and more defined than previous versions. The nine tails that extended from its body were perfect mirrors of his own transformed tails, each one a ribbon of concentrated power.
And it was massive.
Marcus had thought his previous Kurama constructs were large, but this version dwarfed them. It rose from the mountain peak like a god ascending, its head brushing the edge of the atmosphere. The tails stretched for miles, each one capable of sweeping away entire mountain ranges.
Holy... Marcus struggled to process the sheer scale of what he had created. This is insane.
The golden Kurama roared, and the sound traveled around the planet. Birds fled from forests hundreds of miles away. Animals burrowed underground in instinctive terror. The Z-Fighters at Capsule Corporation would definitely sense this—there was no hiding an energy signature of this magnitude.
But Marcus wasn't trying to hide. He was trying to understand.
The construct felt different from his previous versions. It wasn't just larger and more powerful—it was more integrated. In Unity Mode, the Kurama avatar was an extension of himself rather than a separate projection. He could feel through it, sense through it, act through it as naturally as he could act through his own body.
The Unity Mode fusion, he realized. It's not just affecting my personal energy—it's affecting everything I create. The construct is part of me now, not just a tool I'm using.
He experimented with the new form, testing its capabilities. The golden Kurama could move with surprising speed despite its size, its motions guided by his enhanced Unity Mode reflexes. Its tails could attack independently, each one responding to a different thread of his awareness. Its jaws could open and close, gathering energy for attacks that Marcus suspected would be devastating.
Let's try something, he thought.
He focused on one of the construct's tails and willed it to form a Rasengan. The technique manifested at the tip of the tail—not a normal-sized Rasengan, but one proportional to the massive avatar. The sphere of spiraling energy was nearly a hundred meters in diameter, crackling with power that made the air itself scream.
I can use my techniques through the construct, Marcus noted with satisfaction. And they're scaled up to match its size. That's... that's incredibly dangerous.
He dismissed the Rasengan before it could accidentally destroy something important and turned his attention to other aspects of the golden Kurama. The truth-seeking orbs had integrated into the construct somehow, their nullifying properties now extending throughout the avatar's form. Anything the construct touched would be subject to the same erasure effect that had eliminated Buu.
A kaiju-sized nullification field, Marcus thought, slightly awed by the implications. I could erase an entire army just by stepping on them.
It was a terrifying capability, and he resolved to use it sparingly. Power like this came with responsibility—the responsibility to ensure it was never unleashed carelessly.
But there was one more thing he wanted to test.
In the Naruto series, multiple users of the Kurama avatar could merge their constructs into a single, even more powerful form. During the Fourth Shinobi World War, Naruto had linked his Kurama with the other Tailed Beasts to create a composite entity of staggering power.
Marcus didn't have other Tailed Beast wielders to merge with, but he did have shadow clones.
What if I created clones in Unity Mode and had them manifest their own golden Kurama constructs? Could we merge them like in the original series?
There was only one way to find out.
"Shadow Clone Technique."
Twenty copies of himself appeared around the golden Kurama, each one already in Unity Mode with tails and ears manifested. They looked up at the massive construct, then at each other, understanding the plan without verbal communication.
Create your constructs, Marcus thought, the mental command reaching all of them simultaneously.
Twenty additional golden Kuramas blazed into existence, smaller than the original but still enormous. They surrounded the primary construct like satellites orbiting a sun, their combined energy making the sky itself glow with divine light.
"Now merge."
The clones leaped toward the central construct, their avatars flowing into it like streams joining a river. Golden energy merged with golden energy, the forms becoming indistinct before resolidifying into something greater.
The final result was beyond description.
The merged Kurama was so large that its head extended past the atmosphere, its body curving around the planet like a divine mantle. Its eighteen tails—the original nine plus the additional nine from the merged constructs—stretched across continents, their tips brushing distant oceans. Its eyes blazed with power that rivaled stars, and its mere presence seemed to bend reality around it.
Marcus floated at the heart of this godlike being, connected to every aspect of its impossible form. He could feel the planet beneath him, the void of space above him, the distant stars that suddenly seemed not so distant after all.
This is power on a cosmic scale, he realized. Not just planetary—cosmic. I could challenge destroyers in this form. I could face angels.
The thought was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.
But he couldn't maintain it for long. The energy drain was significant, even with Unity Mode's enhanced efficiency. Within minutes, he felt the strain beginning to tell, his reserves depleting faster than natural energy could replenish them.
Marcus released the merged construct, letting it dissolve back into raw energy that dissipated into the atmosphere. The clones popped out of existence as well, their borrowed consciousness returning to him in a rush of shared experience.
He dropped back to the mountain peak, breathing hard, his Unity Mode flickering from the exertion.
That was... that was something else, he thought, struggling to process what he had just done. I created an avatar the size of a planet. I merged multiple constructs into a single godlike form. And it was stable—it actually worked.
The implications were staggering. He had found a way to push his power even further, a technique that could elevate him to levels he had never imagined possible.
But the energy cost is massive, he reminded himself. I couldn't hold that form for more than a few minutes. And the strain on my body was significant. This isn't something I can use casually.
It was a trump card, then. A final resort for situations where nothing else would suffice. Against normal opponents, even god-tier ones, it would be overkill. But against true cosmic threats—beings of universal or multiversal scale—it might be necessary.
I hope I never have to use it for real, Marcus thought. But if I do, at least I know it's possible.
He spent the rest of the day practicing the combined form at smaller scales, learning to control the energy expenditure and extend the duration. By evening, he could maintain a merged construct of moderate size for nearly thirty minutes—still not ideal, but much better than his initial attempt.
The technique was complex, requiring precise coordination between his base state, Unity Mode, shadow clones, and the Kurama construct. Any disruption to the chain could cause the form to destabilize, potentially releasing its accumulated energy in an uncontrolled burst.
That would be bad, Marcus acknowledged. Very, very bad. I need to make sure I never lose control while merged.
He added it to his mental list of precautions, right alongside "don't use truth-seeking orbs on innocent people" and "remember that you're strong enough to accidentally destroy things."
Power came with responsibility. He was learning that lesson more thoroughly every day.
When Marcus returned to Capsule Corporation that evening, he found an unexpected gathering waiting for him.
The Z-Fighters had assembled in the main courtyard—not just the usual residents, but everyone. Goku and Vegeta stood at the front, both looking unusually serious. Gohan, Piccolo, Krillin, Tien, Yamcha, and even Android 18 formed a semicircle behind them. And floating above them all, observing with expressions of mild interest, were Beerus and Whis.
"You caused quite a disturbance earlier," Vegeta said as Marcus landed. "We felt your power spike from here. The entire planet shook."
"I apologize for the disruption." Marcus glanced at the assembled warriors. "I was experimenting with a new technique. It got... larger than intended."
"Larger than intended?" Krillin's voice was strained. "I thought the world was ending! That energy signature was bigger than anything I've ever felt!"
"It was impressive," Whis commented, floating down to eye level. "A manifestation of pure energy on a planetary scale, integrated with your Unity Mode transformation. I haven't seen anything quite like it before."
"You saw it?" Marcus asked, surprised.
"My staff allows me to observe events from great distances." The angel's smile was unreadable. "I watched your entire training session with considerable interest. The merged construct technique is particularly fascinating—a method of exponentially increasing power through duplication and fusion."
Beerus yawned, though his cat-like eyes remained fixed on Marcus. "It was flashy, I'll give you that. But raw power isn't everything. I could destroy that construct with a single finger."
"I don't doubt it." Marcus met the destroyer god's gaze steadily. "I'm not trying to challenge you, Lord Beerus. I'm just trying to understand my own abilities."
"Hmph." Beerus didn't seem convinced, but he also didn't seem threatened. "As long as you don't destroy my food source, I don't particularly care what you do. Just keep the experiments away from populated areas."
"Of course."
The tension in the courtyard eased slightly, though the Z-Fighters still looked unsettled. Marcus couldn't blame them—he had just demonstrated power that exceeded anything they could produce, and the implications of that were concerning.
They're wondering if they can trust me, he realized. Wondering if I might become a threat.
It was a reasonable concern. History was full of powerful beings who had started as allies and ended as enemies. Cell had been created from their cells. Majin Vegeta had been one of their own, corrupted by dark magic. Even Piccolo had once been a mortal enemy.
"I know what you're thinking," Marcus said, addressing the group as a whole. "You're wondering about my intentions. Whether someone with this much power can really be trusted."
Silence. No one denied it.
"I can't prove my intentions through words. Actions are the only evidence that matters." Marcus looked at each of them in turn—Goku's open curiosity, Vegeta's suspicious evaluation, Gohan's analytical interest, Piccolo's calm assessment. "All I can say is that I've had multiple opportunities to cause harm, and I haven't. I defeated Buu. I've trained alongside you without incident. I've shared information about my abilities openly."
"That's true," Goku spoke up, his voice cutting through the tension. "You've been nothing but helpful since you got here. I don't think you're a bad guy."
"Your judgment is questionable, Kakarot," Vegeta muttered. "You think everyone is a potential friend."
"And I'm usually right!" Goku grinned. "Look at you—you tried to kill me, and now we're rivals. Best rivals ever!"
"That's... not exactly a ringing endorsement of your threat assessment abilities."
"It kind of is, though." Gohan stepped forward, his expression thoughtful. "Dad has a way of seeing the best in people, and more often than not, he's correct. Marcus has given us no reason to distrust him."
"The Namekian?" Vegeta looked at Piccolo.
Piccolo was silent for a long moment, his ancient eyes studying Marcus with unsettling intensity. Finally, he spoke.
"I sense no malice in him. His secrets trouble me, but his heart seems genuine." The Namekian's voice was gruff. "I say we continue as we have been—welcoming but watchful. Time will reveal his true nature."
"A reasonable approach," Whis agreed. "And one I would endorse. Marcus represents a fascinating addition to Earth's defenders. It would be a shame to drive him away through excessive suspicion."
"Fine." Vegeta crossed his arms. "But I'm watching you, Sage. One wrong move, and—"
"And you'll attempt to destroy me. Yes, I understand." Marcus allowed himself a small smile. "I would expect nothing less from the Prince of Saiyans."
Something flickered in Vegeta's eyes—respect, perhaps, or at least acknowledgment. The Saiyan prince turned and walked away without another word, but his posture seemed slightly less hostile than before.
The gathering dispersed after that, the Z-Fighters returning to their various activities. But Marcus noticed that the atmosphere had shifted. His display of power had changed how they saw him—not necessarily for the worse, but definitely different.
I'm not just the strange newcomer anymore, he thought. I'm a power player. Someone they have to take seriously.
It was a double-edged sword. Being taken seriously meant being included in important decisions, being trusted with critical information. But it also meant being viewed as a potential threat, being scrutinized for any sign of hostile intent.
I'll just have to prove myself through actions, Marcus decided. Over time, they'll learn to trust me. Or they won't, and I'll deal with that when it happens.
That night, Marcus found himself on the roof again, staring up at the stars.
His thoughts kept returning to the timeline question—the mystery of why this universe was different from the one he remembered. Beerus and Whis's early arrival. Buu's enhanced power. The subtle changes to historical events that Bulma had described.
Something altered this reality, he thought. Something or someone changed the course of events before I arrived.
The obvious suspect was himself. His reincarnation was an unprecedented event, a violation of the normal rules that governed reality. If anything had the power to alter timelines, it would be the kind of cosmic force capable of transferring a soul across dimensions.
But that didn't feel quite right. The changes Bulma had described went back years—before his arrival, before his reincarnation. Vegeta being stronger during his first invasion. Frieza achieving a new transformation on Namek. Beerus awakening early and taking up residence on Earth.
Unless the changes are non-linear, Marcus mused. Unless whatever brought me here also reached backward through time, altering events to create the conditions for my arrival.
It was a terrifying possibility. The idea that his existence had retroactively rewritten history, creating ripple effects that extended in both directions from his point of entry.
But why? What purpose would that serve?
He didn't have an answer. Whatever force had orchestrated his reincarnation hadn't provided an explanation, hadn't given him a mission or a set of instructions. He had simply awakened in this body with these powers, left to figure out the rest on his own.
Maybe there is no purpose, Marcus considered. Maybe this is random—a cosmic accident that happened to dump me in a universe where I could survive. The timeline changes might be unintended side effects, not deliberate alterations.
That was almost more disturbing than the alternative. A purposeful change implied intent, which meant there was a plan he could potentially understand or influence. Random chaos implied nothing—no meaning, no direction, no way to predict what might happen next.
Stop, Marcus told himself firmly. You're spiraling into metaphysical speculation that doesn't help anything. Focus on what you can control.
What he could control was his own growth. His own training. His own relationships with the people of this world.
What he could control was becoming strong enough to face whatever challenges arose, regardless of whether they were part of a grand design or random happenstance.
I'll figure out the timeline mystery eventually, he decided. But for now, I need to focus on the present. On getting stronger. On being ready.
The stars twinkled overhead, vast and indifferent to his concerns. Somewhere out there, in the infinite expanse of the multiverse, forces beyond his comprehension were at work. Gods and angels and beings of cosmic significance pursued their own agendas, schemes within schemes that mortals could barely imagine.
And here he was—a reincarnated accountant with borrowed powers, trying to make sense of a reality that refused to conform to his expectations.
At least it's never boring, Marcus thought with dark humor. I'll give this universe that much.
The next few days passed in a rhythm of training and contemplation.
Marcus continued to refine his combined Kurama-Unity Mode technique, gradually improving his control and efficiency. He learned to manifest the merged construct more quickly, to maintain it for longer periods, and to dismiss it without the dangerous energy backlash that had characterized his early attempts.
He also experimented with variations. A smaller, more concentrated construct that sacrificed size for density. A dispersed form that spread his consciousness across multiple smaller avatars. An armored version that wrapped the golden Kurama energy around his own body like a second skin.
Each variation had its uses. The concentrated form hit harder than the full-sized version, its power compressed into a smaller package. The dispersed form allowed him to be in multiple places at once, useful for battlefield control or protecting multiple targets. The armored form enhanced his personal combat abilities without the energy drain of a full construct.
Tools for different situations, Marcus catalogued. I'm building a repertoire of techniques that can handle almost anything.
But even as he trained, part of his mind continued to worry at the timeline question. He found himself paying closer attention to conversations, listening for discrepancies that might reveal more about how this universe differed from his memories.
Some of what he heard was encouraging. The Z-Fighters' core personalities seemed unchanged—Goku was still cheerfully battle-hungry, Vegeta was still proud and competitive, Gohan was still scholarly, Piccolo was still stoically wise. The relationships between them were familiar, the dynamics he remembered from the anime playing out in slightly altered contexts.
But other things were troubling.
He learned that Frieza's new transformation on Namek had killed several of the Earth warriors before Goku achieved Super Saiyan. Krillin, Tien, and Yamcha had all died—not temporarily, as in canon, but for an extended period while the Dragon Balls were used for other wishes. The trauma of those deaths had affected everyone, creating bonds and tensions that didn't quite match his memories.
He learned that the Android saga had been more devastating, with additional models requiring a coordinated assault that had pushed the Z-Fighters to their limits. 16's sacrifice had been different—instead of dying to inspire Gohan, he had survived and eventually been rebuilt by Bulma. The android was apparently living peacefully now, tending to wildlife in a remote forest.
He learned that Cell's perfect form had been achieved earlier, giving the bio-android more time to terrorize the world before the Cell Games. The tournament itself had been bloodier, with several fighters being seriously injured before Gohan's final victory.
Everything is slightly worse, Marcus realized. The challenges are harder, the costs are higher, the margins are thinner. It's like someone dialed up the difficulty.
The thought was uncomfortable. If the pattern held, future threats would also be more dangerous than their canon versions. Frieza's resurrection, if it happened, might result in a Golden Frieza that was even more powerful. The Tournament of Power, if it occurred, might pit them against universes that were stronger than expected.
I need to be ready for anything, Marcus concluded. And I need to help the others get ready too.
On the fifth day after his Unity Mode-Kurama breakthrough, Marcus made a decision.
He sought out Goku and Vegeta during their morning training session, finding them in a repaired gravity room running through combat drills. Both Saiyans were in their base forms, apparently saving their transformations for later in the workout.
"I want to help you train," Marcus announced without preamble. "Both of you. I think I can push you to new levels."
Goku's face lit up. "Really?! That would be awesome! You're super strong, and fighting strong people is the best way to get stronger!"
Vegeta was more measured. "What's in it for you? Why would you spend your time making us more powerful?"
"Because I might need you at your most powerful someday." Marcus met the prince's suspicious gaze. "There are threats coming—I can feel it. Beings of immense power, challenges that will test all of us. If I'm going to face them, I want allies who can stand beside me."
"You don't know that for certain," Vegeta pointed out. "You're assuming future threats based on... what? Intuition?"
Based on my memories of a fictional universe that doesn't quite match this reality, Marcus thought. But what he said was:
"Call it sage wisdom. My connection to natural energy gives me glimpses of... patterns. Flows of fate that suggest difficult times ahead." It wasn't entirely a lie—his enhanced senses did pick up subtle currents that felt ominous.
Vegeta studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Fine. If you think you can help us improve, I won't refuse. But don't expect me to hold back just because you're playing teacher."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
What followed was the most intense training session Marcus had yet experienced.
He pushed both Saiyans to their limits, using his Unity Mode abilities to match and exceed their transformations. When they went Super Saiyan Blue, he responded with the full nine-tailed form. When they combined their attacks, he used shadow clones and elemental Rasengans to create equal pressure.
But he also taught them.
He showed them how to sense natural energy, guiding them through meditative exercises that opened their awareness to the world around them. Neither could draw on it the way he could—their bodies weren't built for sage techniques—but they could learn to feel it, to read the flows of power in their environment.
"It's like everything is alive," Goku said wonderingly, his eyes closed as he extended his senses. "I can feel the trees, the birds, the rocks... even the clouds have a kind of energy."
"Everything in existence has a life force," Marcus confirmed. "Learning to sense it gives you advantages in combat. You can predict attacks by feeling the energy movements behind them. You can find hidden opponents by their disturbance of natural flows. You can even draw on ambient power to supplement your own reserves."
"Can we learn to use it like you do?" Vegeta demanded. "That energy you channel—can we replicate it?"
"Not directly. Your bodies are adapted for ki, not chakra or natural energy. The pathways are different." Marcus paused, considering. "But you might be able to develop a hybrid approach. Using your ki senses to read natural energy, even if you can't absorb it. It would be a new kind of technique—something unique to you."
The suggestion sparked something in Vegeta's eyes—the light of competitive determination that drove the Saiyan prince to constantly exceed his limits.
"A new technique," Vegeta murmured. "Something Kakarot hasn't mastered. Something that would give me an edge..."
"Hey, I can learn it too!" Goku protested.
"Then we'll see who learns it first."
The rivalry flared between them, and Marcus smiled. This was exactly what he'd hoped for—giving them a new avenue for growth, a fresh challenge to pursue. Stronger Saiyans meant stronger allies, and stronger allies meant better chances against whatever threats the future held.
As the training session wound down and the Saiyans departed to recover, Marcus remained in the gravity room, thinking.
He had made significant progress since his arrival. Unity Mode was mastered. The combined Kurama construct was functional. He was building relationships with the Z-Fighters, establishing himself as an ally rather than a potential threat.
But the timeline mystery still nagged at him. The presence of Beerus and Whis, so far ahead of schedule. The enhanced threats that had plagued this world's history. The subtle wrongness that he couldn't quite define.
I need more information, he decided. And there's only one being here who might have answers.
He left the gravity room and went looking for Whis.
The angel was easy to find—Marcus simply followed the impossible energy signature to a garden at the edge of the Capsule Corporation grounds. Whis was there, seated on a bench, apparently admiring the flowers.
"Ah, Marcus." The angel's smile was welcoming. "I wondered when you would seek me out. You have questions, I assume?"
"How did you know?"
"You've been distracted since your arrival. Observing, analyzing, trying to understand something that doesn't quite fit." Whis patted the bench beside him. "Sit. Ask your questions. I may not answer all of them, but I'll tell you what I can."
Marcus sat, suddenly uncertain how to begin. He had so many questions, so many concerns—where to start?
"This timeline," he said finally. "It's different from what I expected. Events that should have happened at certain times occurred earlier or later. Threats that should have been manageable were more dangerous. You and Lord Beerus are here years before you should be."
Whis's expression remained pleasant, but something sharpened behind his eyes. "And how would you know what 'should' have happened? I thought you were from another universe entirely."
Marcus hesitated. This was the moment—reveal his knowledge of canon events and risk being seen as a threat, or continue the deception and potentially miss crucial information.
He chose a middle path.
"I have memories," he said carefully. "Fragments of knowledge from... somewhere. I don't fully understand their origin. But they suggest that events in this universe have deviated from their intended course."
"Intended by whom?"
"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out."
Whis was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on a particularly vibrant rose. When he spoke again, his voice was thoughtful.
"The multiverse is a complex tapestry, Marcus. Threads of fate weave together in patterns that even divine beings struggle to comprehend. What you perceive as deviations may simply be... variations. Natural differences that arise from the infinite complexity of existence."
"So you're saying there's nothing unusual about this timeline?"
"I'm saying that 'unusual' is a relative term." Whis turned to look at him directly. "But if you're asking whether I've noticed anomalies in this universe—temporal irregularities, energy disturbances that don't fit standard parameters—then yes. I have noticed. Lord Beerus has as well, though he pretends otherwise."
Marcus felt his heart rate increase. "What kind of anomalies?"
"The kind that drew us here in the first place." Whis's smile became enigmatic. "We came to Earth looking for the Super Saiyan God, yes. But we also came because this planet has become a nexus point—a location where the fabric of reality is... thinner than it should be. Events here have an outsized impact on the broader multiverse."
"A nexus point?"
"Think of it like a knot in the tapestry I mentioned. A place where multiple threads converge, where small changes can propagate outward in unexpected ways." Whis's eyes bore into Marcus's. "And recently, that nexus has become even more pronounced. Since, oh, about the time a certain sage appeared from nowhere with power that shouldn't exist in this universe."
Marcus felt cold certainty settle in his gut. "You think I'm connected to the anomalies."
"I think you're at the center of them." Whis's voice was gentle but firm. "Whatever force brought you here, whatever purpose lies behind your reincarnation—it's tied to the changes this universe has experienced. You are not the cause, exactly, but you are deeply involved."
"How do you know about my reincarnation?"
"I know many things." Whis rose from the bench, his staff appearing in his hand. "But here's what I don't know: who arranged it. What they intended. And what role you're meant to play in events yet to come." The angel began to float upward. "Figure that out, Marcus. For all our sakes."
He vanished, leaving Marcus alone in the garden with more questions than answers.
I'm at the center of the anomalies, Marcus thought, staring at the spot where Whis had been. The timeline changes are connected to me. But I'm not the cause—so something else is.
It was a disturbing revelation. Somewhere out there, a force powerful enough to alter reality itself had taken an interest in him. Had arranged his reincarnation, placed him in this specific universe, and made changes to the timeline for purposes he couldn't fathom.
Why me? he wondered. An ordinary accountant from a mundane world? What could I possibly offer that would justify this level of intervention?
He didn't know. But he was determined to find out.
Whatever game was being played, whatever cosmic chess match was unfolding—he refused to be a pawn. He would become strong enough to face whatever was coming. He would uncover the truth behind his reincarnation.
And he would forge his own destiny, regardless of what any higher power intended.
The sun set over Capsule Corporation, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold. Marcus watched it descend, his truth-seeking orbs floating silently around him, and made a silent vow.
I will find the truth. No matter what it takes. No matter how long it requires.
I will understand why I'm here.
And then I will decide, for myself, what to do about it.