Gohan raised a single hand and pointed two fingers forward. The air around him seemed to tighten. A thin spiral of ki gathered at his fingertips, glowing gold and green, vibrating with restrained fury.
"This," Gohan said, his voice steady but heavy with memory, "was passed down to me by Piccolo. The Special Beam Cannon. It doesn't just destroy—it pierces. The longer you charge it, the deadlier it becomes. But it takes focus. One slip, and it backfires."
The beam ignited the sky when he released it. It tore through a distant rock formation like it was paper, leaving a glowing tunnel of molten stone behind. The sound echoed across the ruined wasteland, sharp and final, like a war drum in a dead world.
Trunks swallowed hard, his throat dry. How could something so thin hold so much power?
"Your turn." Gohan's dark eyes lingered on him
Trunks gathered his ki at his fingertips, focusing as instructed. The first attempt fizzled into nothing, a sputtering flash that left his arm trembling. But on the second attempt, he felt it. The ki didn't resist him. It wrapped around his will like a loyal soldier. The beam shot forward, smaller and weaker than Gohan's, but true. It drilled through the ruins of a half-fallen building, collapsing the upper floor into rubble.
Gohan's eyes widened. "Second try…" His lips curved into a rare smile. "You're learning faster than I thought."
***
The days blurred together. Ash-colored skies, the hum of the gravity chamber, the smell of sweat-soaked training clothes. By now, ki training had shifted into something sharper—sparring.
Trunks discovered a hidden feature of his system during one of their sessions. When his elbow grazed Gohan's jaw and drew the faintest drop of blood, numbers appeared above Gohan's head.
{Power Level: 4,300,000}
Trunks's breath caught. So strong… stronger than me by far.
He looked at his own power level.
{Power Level: 3,600,000}
But before he could dwell, Gohan's fist slammed into his gut, folding him in half and sending him sprawling across the chamber floor.
"You hesitated," Gohan said flatly, his tone not cruel but uncompromising. "In a real fight, that's death."
That evening, as thunder cracked across the ashen sky, Gohan stood before Trunks in the place where Vegeta and Goku had been, their first fight. The world outside lay in silence—an unnatural, suffocating quiet broken only by the distant howl of wind pushing against shattered windows. The storm clouds above churned, as though the heavens themselves knew what was about to be unleashed.
Gohan's face was unreadable. He inhaled slowly, his fists tightening at his sides until the muscles in his arms quivered. The air bent around him. A low hum of power grew, vibrating through the cracked pavement. Then, with a guttural yell that shook the night, his aura detonated outward.
"RAAAHHHHHHHH!"
Golden flames erupted from his body, wild and untamed, licking at the air like a raging inferno. His black hair spiked upward in a violent surge, bleached into a molten gold that glowed brighter than lightning itself. The veins in his forehead stood out as the transformation consumed him. The ground beneath his boots spiderwebbed and collapsed, unable to endure the sheer pressure of his ki.
The storm above split open—the clouds parting under the sheer force of his roar. Windows shattered. Dust lifted off the earth in spirals, drawn into the maelstrom of his power.
His turquoise eyes burned with a sharpness that made Trunks flinch. They were no longer the eyes of a weary warrior—they were the eyes of a predator, honed and merciless.
{Power Level: 215,000,000}
"This," Gohan said, his voice layered with a metallic echo, harsher than before, "is the Super Saiyan state. Rage is the trigger, Trunks. Rage so fierce it tears the chains off your limits. Harness it—and you'll break past everything holding you down.
Trunks's throat tightened. His heart pounded in his ears. He had heard of it, imagined it, even dreamed of it—but nothing could compare to standing in the blast of Gohan's golden storm.
This was the perfect chance and excuse to reveal his Super Saiyan form; he could attribute it to his talent.
This was indeed his first time entering this form.
His fingers curled into fists. His nails dug into his palms, hot blood running down his hands. He forced his breathing steady. He thought of the androids—laughing as they burned the city, of lifeless bodies sprawled across smoking rubble, of his mother's tired face and Gohan's lonely silhouette standing against an entire world gone mad.
He thought of himself being dragged from his own world by someone to this place, given a system. He was probably their entertainment. These thoughts made him rage.
His ki began to boil. It twisted inside him like molten metal in a crucible, growing hotter, heavier, sharper. His legs buckled under the strain, his vision blurring.
"AAAHHHHHHHHHH!" Trunks roared, the scream ripping from his chest raw and broken. The earth trembled. Stones rose into the air, caught in the surge. His aura burst outward in violent pulses, first white, then shimmering gold.
His hair snapped upward, one strand, then two, then all of it—transformed into jagged golden spikes. His eyes blazed turquoise, glowing like cold fire. His small frame trembled under the pressure of the transformation, but he held it, his entire being wrapped in golden light. The energy screamed around him, tearing shallow craters into the ground, whipping his clothes against his body.
For a heartbeat, the storm fell silent. Only the boy's ragged breathing and the crackle of his aura filled the night.
{Power Level: 180,000,000}
Trunks stood there—no longer just the frightened boy who had begged to fight the androids. He was a Super Saiyan.
Gohan froze, his own golden aura flickering with surprise. He whispered, almost to himself, "First try…" His lips parted, then closed again. For the first time in years, he felt something pierce the wall of despair: pride.