Death was supposed to be the end.
At least, that's what Marcus Chen had always believed during his twenty-six years of life. He'd spent those years as a relatively unremarkable software developer in Seattle, working nine-to-five at a tech startup that specialized in mobile gaming applications, coming home to his small apartment, and indulging in his one true passion: anime and manga. Dragon Ball had been his first love, introduced to him by his older brother when he was just seven years old. He'd watched Goku's journey from a strange monkey-tailed boy to the legendary Super Saiyan countless times, had collected every manga volume, had debated power levels on forums until three in the morning, and had even learned to draw just so he could sketch his favorite characters.
Jujutsu Kaisen had come later in his life, during the manga boom of the 2020s, and it had captivated him with its dark themes, complex cursed energy system, and absolutely terrifying creatures known as cursed spirits. Among all the entities in that series, one had stood above the rest in his mind: the Eight-Handled Sword Divergent Sila Divine General Mahoraga. The ultimate shikigami of the Ten Shadows Technique, the one being that no member of the Zenin clan had ever successfully tamed throughout their entire history. Its ability to adapt to any and all phenomena had fascinated Marcus to no end. He'd written essays about it on Reddit, had theorized about its true potential, had wondered what would happen if such a being was ever unleashed without limitations.
He never expected to become it.
The truck had come out of nowhere. Marcus had been crossing the street, his eyes glued to his phone as he read the latest chapter of some isekai manga, ironically enough, when the delivery truck ran the red light. He'd heard the horn, felt the impact, experienced a brief moment of searing pain, and then... nothing.
Nothing but darkness.
And then, suddenly, everything.
The first thing Marcus became aware of was the sensation of floating, of existing without a physical form, suspended in an infinite void of swirling colors that defied description. It was like being submerged in a kaleidoscope, with fractals of light dancing around him in patterns that seemed to hold meaning just beyond his comprehension. He tried to speak, to scream, to do something, but he had no mouth, no vocal cords, no body at all.
So this is death, he thought, or rather, he felt the concept of the thought ripple through whatever he had become. This is what comes after. Just... existing in pretty colors forever.
"Not quite, little soul," a voice answered him, though it wasn't really a voice. It was more like the idea of communication, a transmission of meaning that bypassed the need for sound entirely. "Death is merely a doorway, and you have stumbled through one that opens onto interesting possibilities."
Who are you? Marcus projected his confusion outward, and the void seemed to shimmer in response.
"I am what your limited human understanding might call a cosmic administrator, though that term is laughably inadequate. I exist between realities, in the spaces where different universes brush against one another like soap bubbles in a sink. When souls become... dislodged... from their intended destinations, they sometimes find their way to me."
Dislodged? You mean I wasn't supposed to die?
"Oh, you were absolutely supposed to die," the entity replied with what felt like amusement. "The truck was very much fated to hit you. What wasn't supposed to happen was for your soul to slip through the cracks of your reality during the transition. A one in a trillion occurrence. Your particular spiritual frequency, combined with the exact moment of your death and the rather unusual composition of your consciousness—all that fictional knowledge crammed into your brain, really—created a harmonic resonance with the barriers between worlds."
Marcus tried to process this information, but it was like trying to hold water in a net. The concepts kept slipping away from him, too vast and strange for his human mind to fully grasp.
"Don't strain yourself," the entity continued. "The important point is this: I can't send you back to your original world. That path is closed to you now. But I can offer you something else. A new existence in a different reality, one that your soul has shown an affinity for. You've spent so much of your life immersed in these fictional universes that your very essence has become attuned to them."
You're saying I can be reborn in an anime world? Marcus would have laughed if he had the capability. That's literally the plot of every isekai ever. Am I being pranked? Is there some kind of cosmic camera somewhere?
"Mock if you wish, but the offer is genuine. However, there are... conditions. The universe I'm sending you to is particularly dense with powerful beings. If I simply dropped your soul in as a human, you would be destroyed almost immediately by the ambient energy levels. Your soul needs a vessel capable of surviving in such an environment."
What kind of vessel?
"That's where things become interesting. Your soul has latched onto a particular concept with unusual intensity. The being you know as Mahoraga, the Divine General of the Ten Shadows Technique. Your fascination with this entity has left an imprint on your spiritual essence, a template that I can use to reconstruct you."
Marcus felt something that might have been his heart stopping, if he'd had a heart. You're saying I would become Mahoraga?
"In essence, yes. You would retain your consciousness, your memories, your sense of self, but your physical form and your abilities would be modeled after that which you so admired. The adaptation, the regeneration, the raw power—all of it would be yours. And before you ask, yes, you would be able to speak and interact with others. I'm not so cruel as to trap a human consciousness in a body incapable of communication."
This is insane. This is absolutely insane. And you said I'd be going to a universe that needed a powerful vessel... which one? Which anime world?
"The one your soul resonates with most strongly. The one you grew up with, the one that shaped your understanding of power and heroism and the endless pursuit of strength."
Dragon Ball.
"Precisely. And not just any point in that timeline, but a moment of great significance. A turning point where the arrival of an unprecedented power could reshape the course of events entirely."
When Raditz arrives, Marcus realized with a surge of excitement that rippled through the void. The beginning of Z. When everything changed. When the scale of the universe expanded beyond just Earth.
"Correct. The Saiyan Raditz has already entered the Earth's atmosphere. Within hours, he will locate his brother Kakarot and set into motion a chain of events that will define the fate of multiple worlds. And you... you will be there to witness it. Perhaps even to influence it."
Why? What's in this for you? Cosmic entities don't just hand out overpowered reincarnations for free. What's the catch?
The entity's presence seemed to pulse with approval. "Cleverer than most. The truth is simple: I find reality television boring. The drama of these fictional universes, as you call them, is far more entertaining. And occasionally, introducing a new variable into an established timeline creates ripples of consequence that are absolutely delightful to observe. You are my entertainment, Marcus Chen. You are the stone I'm throwing into the pond to watch the patterns change."
So I'm a cosmic plaything.
"You're an opportunity. Both for me and for yourself. You can choose to reject this offer. I can disperse your soul into the void, let you fade into peaceful non-existence. No judgment, no consequences. Or you can take the gift I'm offering and live again, with power beyond anything you could have imagined in your mortal life. The choice is yours."
It wasn't really a choice at all, and they both knew it. Marcus had spent his entire life dreaming of worlds like the one being offered to him. He'd imagined what it would be like to fire a Kamehameha, to fly through the skies, to stand alongside Goku and Vegeta as they faced down threats to the universe. Now he was being given the chance to do exactly that, albeit in a form he hadn't anticipated.
I'll do it, he projected into the void. Make me into Mahoraga. Send me to the Dragon Ball universe. Let me see what happens when adaptation meets the endless power scaling of the Saiyans.
"Excellent. Then let us begin."
The void erupted into light, and Marcus Chen ceased to exist.
What came into being in his place was something entirely new.
Consciousness returned in fragments, like a puzzle slowly assembling itself from scattered pieces. First came the awareness of weight, of physical presence, of existing as something solid and real after an eternity of formless floating. Then came sensation—the feeling of air against skin, of ground beneath feet, of a body that was familiar and yet completely alien at the same time.
And then came the wheel.
It rose from his back like a second spine, a massive ring of ancient wood and metal that seemed to resonate with power. Marcus—no, he needed a new name now, didn't he? The entity had said he would retain his sense of self, but Marcus Chen was dead. The being standing in this strange new world was something different, something more. He decided, in that moment of awakening, that he would take the name of what he had become. He would be Mahoraga.
The Divine General opened his eyes for the first time, and the world of Dragon Ball spread out before him.
He was standing in a forest, surrounded by trees that seemed both familiar and strange. The vegetation was that particular shade of Dragon Ball green that he'd seen in countless episodes, that slightly exaggerated vibrancy that marked this reality as different from the one he'd left behind. Birds chirped in the branches above, small animals scurried through the underbrush, and in the distance, he could see mountains that seemed to reach impossibly high into a perfectly blue sky.
But none of that mattered as much as the body he found himself inhabiting.
Mahoraga looked down at his hands and found them covered in thick, grey-tinted skin that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. His fingers were long and ended in dark claws, and when he flexed them, he could feel the raw power contained within each digit. His body was massive, easily over eight feet tall, with muscles that seemed carved from living stone. He could feel the weight of the wheel on his back, rotating slowly even though he hadn't commanded it to, and with each rotation came a pulse of energy that seemed to sync with his heartbeat.
He was wearing something that resembled the traditional garb of a Divine General—a dark kimono-like robe that left his arms and lower legs exposed, secured with a thick belt around his waist. His head, when he reached up to touch it, bore the distinctive features of Mahoraga: the blank face, the sealed eyes, the general inhumanity of it. But unlike the Mahoraga of Jujutsu Kaisen, he could feel his own consciousness behind those sealed lids, could sense the world around him through means that transcended ordinary sight.
I can see, he realized with wonder. Not with eyes, but with... something else. Something deeper.
And what he saw was extraordinary.
The world around him was alive with energy. Not just the ordinary energy of living things, but something more fundamental, more primal. It flowed through the air like invisible rivers, pooled in the ground like underground lakes, radiated from every plant and animal and stone in waves of color and intensity. This was ki, he realized. The life force that powered everything in the Dragon Ball universe, from the weakest human to the mightiest god.
And he could see it. He could feel it. He could, if he focused, reach out and touch it.
Mahoraga extended his hand toward a nearby tree, concentrating on the energy flowing through it. To his amazement, he felt his own power respond, reaching out like a hungry mouth to taste the ki that surrounded him. The tree's energy was weak, barely a flicker compared to the inferno he could sense within himself, but it was there. It was real. This was all real.
"Status check," he murmured, and was surprised to find that he could indeed speak. His voice was deep, resonant, carrying an echo that seemed to come from the wheel on his back. "Let's see what I'm working with."
He closed his eyes—metaphorically, since his physical eyes seemed to be permanently sealed—and turned his attention inward. What he found there made him stagger with the sheer magnitude of it.
His power was vast. Not just large, not just impressive, but genuinely, incomprehensibly vast. It was like trying to measure the ocean with a teaspoon. He could feel energy reserves that seemed to have no bottom, regenerative capabilities that made the concept of injury almost meaningless, and at the core of it all, the ability that had made the original Mahoraga so terrifying: adaptation.
Adaptation to all phenomena, he thought, remembering the explanation from the manga. The ability to adjust to any attack, any technique, any power used against me. Once I experience something, I can never be harmed by it the same way again.
In Jujutsu Kaisen, this had been portrayed as near-invincibility, limited only by the need to survive the initial exposure to a threat. But Mahoraga hadn't been dealing with the absurd power levels of Dragon Ball. What would happen when his adaptation faced a Kamehameha? A Spirit Bomb? The destructive power of a full-powered Saiyan?
I'm going to find out, Mahoraga realized with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. I'm really going to find out.
But first, he needed to orient himself. The cosmic entity had said that Raditz was already on Earth, that the beginning of the Saiyan Saga was imminent. If Mahoraga was going to make any meaningful impact on events, he needed to figure out where he was and how to get to where the action would be happening.
He extended his senses outward, pushing his awareness beyond the immediate forest and into the surrounding landscape. It was a strange sensation, like reaching out with a limb he hadn't known he possessed, but it came naturally to his new form. He could feel the presence of other beings, their ki signatures burning like distant stars in the darkness of his expanded perception.
Most of them were weak. Ordinary humans going about their ordinary lives, their power levels barely registering on the scale of things he could now perceive. But there were exceptions. Brighter spots in the tapestry of life force that indicated beings of unusual strength.
To the north, he sensed a cluster of modestly powerful signatures—martial artists training at what might have been a dojo or monastery. Their ki was refined, disciplined, but still fundamentally human.
To the east, something stranger. A mechanical signature that pulsed with artificial energy, traveling at high speed through the sky. A vehicle of some kind, perhaps a capsule jet or hover car.
And to the west...
Mahoraga's attention snapped to focus on the signatures to the west, his wheel spinning faster as his entire being oriented toward what he was sensing. There were two of them, burning brighter than anything else he'd detected, and one of them was moving toward Earth at incredible speed.
The first signature was warm, vibrant, full of life and barely contained potential. It felt like looking at a bonfire that could become a forest fire at any moment, power that was immense but unrefined, eager to grow. That had to be Goku. Son Goku, born Kakarot, the protagonist of Dragon Ball and the man who would one day become the strongest mortal in the universe.
The second signature was colder, more disciplined, carrying an edge of cruelty that Mahoraga could almost taste. It was approaching Earth's atmosphere rapidly, a comet of malevolent energy that would impact the planet like a bomb. Raditz. The older brother who would shatter Goku's understanding of his own origins and set the stage for everything that followed.
I need to get there, Mahoraga thought. I need to be there when it happens.
But how? He had no idea how far away he was from the location where Raditz would land, and he wasn't even sure if he could fly. In Jujutsu Kaisen, Mahoraga had demonstrated incredible physical capabilities but hadn't been shown to have true flight—though that might have been a limitation of the cursed energy system rather than the shikigami itself.
Let's find out, he decided, and channeled his internal energy toward the concept of movement through air.
It was surprisingly easy. The ki in his body responded to his will with an eagerness that was almost startling, lifting him off the ground as naturally as taking a step. Within moments, Mahoraga was hovering ten feet above the forest floor, the trees around him swaying from the displaced air.
"Okay," he said aloud, a grin that he couldn't technically show forming in his consciousness. "That answers that question."
He oriented himself toward the two powerful signatures in the west and rocketed forward through the sky, the wheel on his back spinning with increased intensity as if celebrating his first true use of power in this new world. The landscape beneath him became a blur of green and brown, mountains and rivers and fields passing in seconds as he accelerated to speeds that would have been unimaginable in his old life.
The wind roared around him, but it was no obstacle. His body parted the air like a knife through butter, his durability ensuring that the friction and pressure that would have destroyed an ordinary being were nothing more than background sensation. He was flying. Actually flying through the sky of the Dragon Ball world, racing toward a confrontation that had defined his childhood.
As he flew, Mahoraga took stock of his situation more thoroughly. The cosmic entity had given him the form and abilities of the Divine General, but there were questions that remained unanswered. Did he have access to all of Mahoraga's canonical abilities? Were there limitations he wasn't aware of? And most importantly, how would his power stack up against the beings of this universe?
He reached into himself again, examining the nature of his power more closely. His ki—if that's what it could be called—was strange. It didn't feel quite like the pure life force he sensed from the world around him. It was denser, more complex, carrying echoes of something that might have been cursed energy if such a thing existed in this reality. Perhaps it was a hybrid, a new form of power born from the merger of his Dragon Ball knowledge and his Mahoraga template.
Whatever it was, it was potent. He could feel it cycling through his body in patterns that enhanced his physical capabilities, reinforced his regeneration, and kept the wheel of adaptation spinning in a constant state of readiness. He was, he realized, probably already among the strongest beings on Earth. The question was whether that would be enough.
The signatures grew closer as he flew, and soon he could make out the landscape of his destination. An island in the middle of a vast ocean, small and isolated, with a single house sitting on its sandy shore. Kame House. The home of Master Roshi, the legendary Turtle Hermit, and the gathering place for Earth's defenders.
Mahoraga slowed his approach, not wanting to alarm the people below with a sudden dramatic entrance. He could sense multiple ki signatures on and around the island now—several weak ones that were probably Bulma, Launch, and Turtle, along with a slightly stronger one that would be Master Roshi himself. And the bright, burning flame of Goku, currently accompanied by a much smaller flame that had to be Gohan.
The family was together. The peaceful moment before the storm.
And approaching rapidly from above...
Mahoraga looked up toward the sky and saw it. A streak of light descending through the atmosphere, a pod carrying the herald of destruction toward its target. Raditz was arriving. The Saiyan Saga was about to begin.
For a moment, Mahoraga hesitated. The original timeline was clear in his memory—Raditz would land, sense Piccolo's power, investigate, then track Goku to Kame House using his scouter. There would be a confrontation, Gohan would be kidnapped, and eventually both Goku and Raditz would die in the battle against the older Saiyan. Everything that followed depended on this sequence of events.
But Mahoraga wasn't here to preserve the timeline. He was here because a bored cosmic entity wanted to see what would happen when a new variable was introduced. And what better variable than an Divine General with the power of adaptation?
He made his decision in an instant and changed his course, rocketing upward toward the descending space pod at maximum speed. If Raditz wanted to cause trouble on Earth, he was going to have to go through Mahoraga first.
The pod impacted in a wasteland several miles from Kame House, carving a massive crater in the earth and sending shockwaves rippling outward in all directions. Mahoraga arrived at the scene less than thirty seconds later, touching down on the rim of the crater and looking down at the smoking spacecraft below.
The hatch was already opening.
A figure emerged from within, and Mahoraga had his first true look at a Saiyan warrior in person. Raditz was tall for a human but significantly shorter than Mahoraga's current form, with wild black hair that cascaded down his back like a mane and armor that spoke of countless battles. His tail—that distinctive Saiyan appendage—was wrapped around his waist like a belt, and his face bore an expression of arrogant confidence that suggested he expected to find nothing but weaklings on this backwater planet.
His scouter beeped as it detected Mahoraga's presence, and that confidence flickered for just a moment.
"What the—" Raditz turned to face the crater's rim, his eyes widening as he took in the form of the Divine General looming above him. "What in the universe are you? My scouter can't get a stable reading on your power level!"
Mahoraga said nothing at first, simply observing the Saiyan with senses that went beyond ordinary sight. He could feel Raditz's ki signature clearly now, could measure its intensity against his own internal power. The Saiyan was strong—far stronger than any human on Earth, strong enough to destroy mountains with casual effort—but compared to the vast reservoir of energy that Mahoraga possessed...
He's nothing, Mahoraga realized with a mix of relief and something that might have been disappointment. Raditz is absolutely nothing compared to me.
According to canonical power levels, Raditz had a battle power of approximately 1,500. The original Mahoraga, even in the limited displays shown in Jujutsu Kaisen, had demonstrated physical capabilities and adaptation potential that far exceeded what such a number would suggest in Dragon Ball terms. And Mahoraga could feel that he was, if anything, stronger than his template would suggest—perhaps enhanced by the ki-rich environment of this universe or simply by the nature of his divine rebirth.
He could destroy Raditz without effort. He knew that with absolute certainty. But should he?
Raditz's death at this point in the timeline would prevent the other Saiyans from learning about the Dragon Balls. Vegeta and Nappa would never come to Earth, which meant the Z-Fighters would never be forced to grow stronger to face them. Goku would never die and train with King Kai, would never learn the Kaioken or the Spirit Bomb. The future would be completely different.
Or... Mahoraga could let events proceed roughly as they were supposed to, intervening only enough to change specific outcomes. He could save Goku's life while still allowing the threat of the Saiyans to motivate Earth's defenders to grow stronger.
Or I could fight Raditz, adapt to his techniques, and then let him go to bring back even stronger opponents, a third option whispered in his mind. The more powerful the beings I face, the more I can adapt, the stronger I can become.
That was the dangerous path. The path of seeking out conflict to fuel his own growth. But wasn't that exactly what Dragon Ball was all about? The endless pursuit of greater strength, the thrill of facing overwhelming odds and growing through adversity?
Mahoraga had to make a choice, and he had to make it now.
"Hey! I asked you a question, creature!" Raditz was shouting now, his ki flaring in irritation as he rose out of the crater to hover level with the Divine General. "What are you? Some kind of bioweapon left behind by one of this planet's extinct civilizations? Answer me!"
"I am Mahoraga," the Divine General replied, his deep voice carrying across the wasteland. "I am the Wheel of Adaptation. And you, Saiyan, are trespassing on a world under my protection."
Raditz's scouter beeped again, and this time his face paled slightly. "What— my scouter just gave me a reading of 3,000... no, 5,000... no, it's still climbing! What kind of power is this?!"
The truth was that Mahoraga wasn't doing anything to increase his power. His ki signature was simply too vast and too strange for the Saiyan scouter to measure accurately. The device was designed to read the linear power levels of beings from Universe 7, not the hybrid energy of a Divine General from an entirely different fictional cosmology.
"I'll give you one chance to leave this planet peacefully," Mahoraga continued, taking a step forward off the crater's rim and hovering in the air to face Raditz directly. "Return to your pod, fly away, and tell your masters that Earth is no longer vulnerable. Do this, and you will live. Refuse... and I will demonstrate what true power looks like."
It was a test, Mahoraga knew. He wanted to see how Raditz would react, whether the Saiyan's pride would overwhelm his sense of self-preservation. In canon, Raditz had been arrogant and cruel but not stupid—he'd been willing to use hostages and tactics rather than relying purely on direct combat. Would that pragmatism extend to recognizing when he was outmatched?
The answer came in the form of a ki blast.
Raditz's arm shot forward, and a bolt of purple energy screamed toward Mahoraga's chest at lethal velocity. It was a killing blow, meant to destroy whatever vital organs the creature before him possessed and end the threat before it could materialize.
The blast struck Mahoraga directly.
And then the wheel began to turn.
The sensation was unlike anything Marcus had ever imagined. The energy impact against his chest, and for a brief moment—a fraction of a fraction of a second—he felt pain. Actual, genuine pain as the attack attempted to damage his form. But then the wheel on his back spun with incredible speed, and something changed within him.
Adaptation.
The energy that had been attacking him was suddenly recognized, catalogued, understood. His body adjusted at a level below conscious thought, modifying itself to be completely immune to that particular type of attack. When the smoke cleared, Mahoraga stood exactly where he had been, without so much as a scratch on his grey skin.
"What?!" Raditz stared in disbelief. "That was a full-power attack! How are you unharmed?!"
"I told you," Mahoraga said, and now there was something like satisfaction in his voice. "I am Adaptation incarnate. That technique will never harm me again. Nor will any variation of it, any attack using the same principles, any energy-based assault that follows similar patterns. I have experienced your power, Raditz, and I have evolved beyond it."
This was the truth of Mahoraga's ability, and in the context of Dragon Ball, it was almost absurdly overpowered. Ki attacks in this universe, while varying wildly in power, all operated on fundamentally similar principles. They were expressions of life energy, projected outward as destructive force. If Mahoraga could adapt to one ki blast, the implications for adapting to others were staggering.
But the adaptation went even further than that. Mahoraga could feel changes occurring throughout his body, subtle adjustments to his energy pathways and physical structure that would make him more efficient at using ki himself. By being attacked with ki, he had learned about ki. By experiencing Raditz's power, he had gained insight into Saiyan energy manipulation.
This is incredible, Mahoraga thought even as he maintained his intimidating exterior. If I fight enough beings, experience enough techniques, I could potentially adapt to anything in this universe.
Raditz, meanwhile, was reassessing the situation with the speed of a warrior who had survived countless battles. His scouter readings were useless, his initial attack had failed completely, and the creature before him didn't seem concerned in the slightest. For the first time since landing on this planet, the Saiyan warrior felt something that might have been fear.
"You're strong," Raditz admitted, his pride warring with his survival instinct. "Stronger than anything I expected to find on this worthless rock. But you're still just one being, and I am a Saiyan warrior! We are the mightiest race in the universe!"
He charged forward, abandoning energy attacks in favor of physical combat. His fist struck toward Mahoraga's face with enough force to shatter mountains, moving at speeds that would have been invisible to human eyes.
Mahoraga caught the punch in his palm.
The impact created a shockwave that flattened everything within a hundred meters, carving new craters in the already damaged landscape. Raditz's arm trembled in Mahoraga's grip, his eyes wide with shock as he realized that his full-strength attack had been stopped cold.
"Physical combat," Mahoraga observed calmly. "A different approach than energy projection. Let me experience this as well."
And he let Raditz hit him.
The Saiyan, seeing what he interpreted as an opening, launched into a furious assault. Punches and kicks rained down on Mahoraga's form with devastating force, each blow powerful enough to destroy cities, delivered with the speed and precision of an elite warrior. For thirty seconds, Raditz poured everything he had into the attack, his Saiyan pride demanding that he prove his superiority over this strange creature.
The wheel spun faster with each impact.
When Raditz finally exhausted himself and stepped back, panting with exertion, Mahoraga remained standing without any visible damage. But more than that—his stance had changed subtly. His body had adjusted. His movements, when he shifted position, were smoother and more efficient than before.
"Interesting," Mahoraga said, looking at his hands with what might have been wonder. "Your fighting style... it's brutal but effective. Maximizing force, targeting weak points, chaining attacks to prevent defense. I believe I understand it now."
He moved.
It wasn't teleportation, but it might as well have been for how fast it occurred. One moment Mahoraga was standing still, and the next his fist was buried in Raditz's stomach. The Saiyan's eyes bulged as air and blood were forced from his lungs, his armor cracking from the impact.
"Wh-what—" Raditz wheezed, trying to understand what had just happened.
"Adaptation is not merely about defense," Mahoraga explained, withdrawing his fist and watching dispassionately as the Saiyan collapsed to his knees. "It is about understanding, about learning, about evolving to overcome any challenge. You showed me your combat style, Raditz. You taught me how Saiyans fight. And now..."
He reached down and grabbed the Saiyan by his hair, lifting him up to eye level with seemingly no effort at all.
"Now I am going to give you a choice. A real choice, not the empty threat I offered before. You can die here, in this wasteland, never having accomplished your mission. Or you can accept defeat, return to whoever sent you, and tell them what you found on this planet. Tell them about me. Bring them here."
Raditz's broken face twisted with confusion through the pain. "You... you want me to bring the others here? To bring Vegeta? You're insane! Vegeta will destroy you! He'll destroy this entire planet!"
"Perhaps," Mahoraga acknowledged. "Or perhaps I will adapt to him as I adapted to you. Perhaps I will grow stronger from facing stronger opponents. That is the nature of my existence, Saiyan. I do not fear power. I welcome it. I consume it. I become it."
He released Raditz, letting the warrior crash to the ground in a heap of broken armor and wounded pride.
"Go. Take your pod. Fly back to your prince and tell him that Earth has a guardian unlike anything in the universe. Tell him that if he wants this world, he will have to pay for it in blood and pain. And tell him..."
Mahoraga paused, the wheel on his back spinning ominously.
"Tell him that I am looking forward to meeting him."
It took Raditz almost an hour to drag himself back to his space pod, his body too damaged to fly but his Saiyan pride too great to accept the humiliation of lying in the dirt and waiting to die. Mahoraga watched him go without interfering, observing the warrior's struggle with something approaching respect. Say what you would about Saiyans—they didn't give up easily.
When the pod finally launched into the sky, carrying its broken cargo back toward wherever Vegeta and Nappa waited, Mahoraga turned his attention to other matters. The initial confrontation was over. He had announced his presence to the universe, had changed the course of events in ways that couldn't be predicted. Now came the more delicate work of figuring out how to integrate himself into this world.
He could sense the ki signatures on Kame House, stronger now than they had been before. Goku had felt the battle, had sensed the tremendous powers clashing in the wasteland. He would be curious, perhaps even concerned. Piccolo, too—Mahoraga could feel the Namekian's signature flaring in the distance, agitated and wary.
Should he approach them? Introduce himself as an ally? That would be the simplest path, but it carried risks. The Z-Fighters were, understandably, suspicious of powerful beings who appeared out of nowhere. Piccolo had only recently stopped being an active threat to the Earth. They would want explanations that Mahoraga wasn't sure he could provide convincingly.
I could tell them the truth, he considered. That I'm from another dimension, that I know their futures, that I'm here to help. But would they believe me? And even if they did, would they welcome my interference?
The Dragon Ball universe was, at its core, a story about growth through adversity. The characters became stronger because they faced challenges that pushed them beyond their limits. If Mahoraga simply solved all their problems, protected them from every threat, they would never develop the power they needed to face the truly cosmic dangers that lay ahead. Beerus. Zamasu. Jiren. Moro. The Tournament of Power.
No, the best approach was probably to position himself as an independent force, someone who would help when truly needed but who wouldn't replace the Z-Fighters as Earth's defenders. He could be the backup plan, the ace in the hole, the being who stepped in only when all other options had failed.
That would require restraint. That would require patience. And that would require him to somehow explain his existence to people who had never heard of shikigami, cursed spirits, or the Ten Shadows Technique.
"One step at a time," Mahoraga murmured to himself. "First, I need to establish a presence. Find somewhere to exist in this world. Then I can worry about building relationships."
He rose into the air, orienting himself away from Kame House and toward the uninhabited wilderness he'd first appeared in. There would be time to meet the Z-Fighters later, after things had settled down and the immediate crisis of Raditz's arrival had passed. For now, he needed solitude to explore his new form and abilities more thoroughly.
As he flew, the wheel on his back continued to spin, processing the adaptations he'd gained from his brief battle with Raditz. He could feel his body changing in subtle ways, optimizing itself, becoming more efficient at channeling and manipulating ki. The exposure to Saiyan energy and combat techniques had given him a foundation to build upon.
This is just the beginning, Mahoraga thought with a sense of growing excitement. Raditz was the weakest of the Saiyans, the tutorial boss. Nappa, Vegeta, Frieza, Cell, Majin Buu—every threat I face will make me stronger. Every battle will evolve my abilities. By the time the really dangerous enemies arrive, I'll be ready for them.
And if I'm not... well, that's what adaptation is for.
The future of the Dragon Ball universe was about to change in ways that no one—not even a cosmic entity watching from between realities—could fully predict. The Wheel of Adaptation had begun to turn, and it would not stop until it had consumed every phenomenon this world had to offer.
Mahoraga smiled, though no one was there to see it.
This was going to be fun.
END OF CHAPTER ONE