Danny Martinez was having the worst Tuesday of his entire twenty-three years of existence, and that was saying something considering he'd once accidentally set his pants on fire at a job interview. Twice.
It had started innocently enough. He'd been sitting in his cramped apartment, surrounded by enough Digimon merchandise to make a collector weep with joy and a minimalist weep with horror. Posters of Omnimon covered every available wall space. A MetalGarurumon figure stood proudly on his desk next to a half-eaten bag of Doritos. His prized possession—a first-edition Digimon Adventure DVD box set—sat in a glass case like it was the Holy Grail itself.
Danny had been in the middle of what he called his "Ultimate Digimon Marathon"—a self-imposed challenge to watch every single piece of Digimon media in chronological order while simultaneously playing Digimon World on his vintage PlayStation. He was forty-seven hours in, running purely on energy drinks, spite, and a concerning amount of instant ramen.
"Agumon, you beautiful orange dinosaur," Danny mumbled at his screen, his bloodshot eyes reflecting the glow of the television. "You're the only one who understands me."
His cat, Sir Whiskers the Third (there had never been a First or Second; Danny just thought the name sounded more distinguished), meowed judgmentally from atop a pile of Digimon card game boxes.
"Don't give me that look," Danny said, pointing a Dorito at the cat. "You don't pay rent. You don't get opinions."
Sir Whiskers the Third blinked slowly and proceeded to knock a Patamon plushie off the shelf with deliberate malice.
Danny sighed, turning back to his screen. He was just getting to the good part—the part where Omnimon first appeared and absolutely wrecked Diaboromon—when his heart did something interesting.
It stopped.
Just... stopped.
One moment Danny was reaching for another energy drink (his seventh that day, and yes, his doctor would have had words about that if his doctor wasn't an imaginary construct Danny had invented to ignore his health problems), and the next moment he was experiencing what could only be described as the physical equivalent of a Windows blue screen of death.
"Huh," Danny said, looking down at his chest as if it had personally betrayed him. "That's... that's probably not good."
He had just enough time to think about how embarrassing it was going to be when they found his body surrounded by Digimon merchandise before everything went black.
The afterlife, Danny discovered, was surprisingly bureaucratic.
He found himself standing in what appeared to be an endless white void, facing a being that looked like someone had tried to describe "cosmic entity" to an AI and the AI had responded with "best I can do is a vaguely humanoid shape made of screensavers from 1995."
"Daniel Martinez," the entity said, and its voice sounded like dial-up internet mixed with a choir of angels and a disappointed parent. "Died of cardiac arrest brought on by severe energy drink overconsumption and chronic poor life decisions."
"In my defense," Danny started.
"There is no defense. You had seven energy drinks in four hours. A horse would have died."
"Well, when you put it like that—"
"I am putting it exactly like that because that is exactly what happened."
Danny shifted awkwardly. Even in death, he couldn't escape being lectured. "So, uh, is this the part where you tell me if I'm going to heaven or hell or whatever?"
The entity made a sound that might have been a sigh if sighs could be rendered in binary code. "No. This is the part where I tell you about the cosmic lottery."
"The what now?"
"Every ten thousand years, give or take, a soul is randomly selected for what we in the cosmic administration department call a 'do-over with benefits.' You, Daniel Martinez, have won."
Danny blinked. Then blinked again. "I'm sorry, did you just say I won a cosmic lottery? Me? The guy who once lost a game of rock-paper-scissors to himself?"
"The selection is entirely random. Merit has nothing to do with it. If it did, you would absolutely not have been chosen."
"Okay, rude, but fair."
The entity pulsed with what might have been impatience. "You will be reborn in another universe. You will retain your memories, though I strongly suggest you keep that information to yourself unless you want to be considered mentally unstable. You will also be granted one ability of significant power."
Danny's mind immediately went to the obvious choices. Super strength? Flight? The ability to finally talk to women without immediately saying something weird?
"The ability," the entity continued, "has already been selected based on your soul's deepest desires and obsessions. You will have the power to transform into any Digimon—any form, any fusion, any variant, any transformation. This includes virus types, mega evolutions, DNA digivolutions, and whatever else that franchise has come up with. We stopped keeping track after Appmon."
Danny's brain short-circuited.
"I'm sorry," he said slowly, "did you just say I can turn into ANY Digimon?"
"Yes."
"ANY Digimon?"
"I believe I was clear."
"Like... Omnimon?"
"Yes."
"Imperialdramon?"
"Yes."
"Lucemon Shadowlord Mode?"
"If you want to be unnecessarily dramatic, yes."
Danny's face split into the widest grin he'd ever grinned in his life—or death, technically. This was it. This was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. Forget dying of energy drink overdose. Forget his student loans (which, he realized with glee, were definitely not following him to another universe). He was about to become the most overpowered being in whatever universe he ended up in.
"One more thing," the entity said, and its tone took on a note of what might have been cosmic amusement. "The universe you're being sent to is the Dragon Ball universe. Specifically, you will appear on the planet Namek, approximately three minutes before Frieza transforms into his second form."
Danny's grin faltered.
"The Dragon Ball universe?"
"Yes."
"Like... Goku? Vegeta? People who can blow up planets by sneezing aggressively?"
"Yes."
"And I'm appearing during the FRIEZA SAGA?"
"Yes."
"Three minutes before he transforms?"
"I feel like we've established this."
Danny's mind raced through everything he knew about Dragon Ball, which was admittedly less comprehensive than his Digimon knowledge but still substantial because he was the kind of nerd who absorbed fictional universes like a sponge absorbed water.
The Frieza Saga. One of the most brutal arcs in Dragon Ball history. The arc where Vegeta died. Where Krillin died. Where Piccolo nearly died. Where the entire planet of Namek was destroyed. And he was going to appear right in the middle of it?
"Can I get a different universe?" Danny asked weakly. "Maybe something calmer? Like... I don't know, Pokémon? I could handle Pokémon. Nobody dies in Pokémon. Well, almost nobody. That one episode with the Butterfree was pretty sad, but—"
"The selection has been made. Good luck, Daniel Martinez. Try not to die immediately."
"Wait, I have more questions! How do I transform? Is there a time limit? What happens if I—"
But the entity was already gone, and Danny felt himself falling through the void, through layers of reality and dimensional barriers and what felt like the universe's most aggressive washing machine cycle.
Danny's first thought upon regaining consciousness was that death had been remarkably painless compared to whatever was happening to his sinuses right now.
He was lying face-down in grass. That was new. His apartment didn't have grass. His apartment barely had a functioning bathroom.
He pushed himself up slowly, his body feeling strange and unfamiliar—lighter than before, different in ways he couldn't quite identify. He looked down at his hands.
They were smaller than he remembered. And less hairy. And attached to arms that definitely belonged to a child.
"Oh no," Danny muttered, his voice coming out higher than expected. "Oh no no no no no."
He scrambled to find a reflective surface, eventually locating a small pond nearby. The face that stared back at him was approximately seven years old, with messy black hair and wide eyes that were currently expressing an appropriate amount of existential horror.
"I'm a child," Danny said to his reflection. "A literal child. I have to go through puberty AGAIN?"
His reflection offered no comfort. Reflections rarely did.
The sound of an explosion in the distance snapped Danny out of his spiral of despair. He looked up and saw, in the sky above what appeared to be a distinctly alien landscape of blue-green grass and peculiar rock formations, a battle unfolding.
Even from this distance, he could see figures trading blows at speeds that shouldn't have been possible. Energy blasts lit up the sky like deadly fireworks. And at the center of it all, floating with the casual arrogance of someone who had never been told no in his entire life, was a small purple and white figure with a tail and an energy signature that made Danny's newly acquired child body break out in a cold sweat.
Frieza. In his first form. Which meant any second now he was going to transform into his second form, which was somehow even more horrifying despite—or perhaps because of—looking like a xenomorph's ugly cousin.
Danny could see Gohan and Krillin in the distance, their energy signatures flickering with fear and determination. He could see Vegeta, arrogant even in the face of certain death. And he could see Frieza, who was currently monologuing about something because that's what Frieza did. The guy loved the sound of his own voice more than Danny loved Digimon, which was really saying something.
"Okay, Danny," he muttered to himself, "think. Think think think. You have the power to turn into any Digimon. You are currently a small child in the middle of the most dangerous conflict in Dragon Ball history up to this point. What do you do?"
The logical answer would be to hide. To wait it out. To let Goku show up and handle things like he always did. Danny wasn't a fighter. Danny was a guy who had died from drinking too many energy drinks. What business did he have interfering with a battle between planet-busters?
But then he saw it—Frieza gesturing dramatically, his body beginning to grow and twist as he initiated his transformation into his second form. And he saw the look of horror on Krillin's face, the fear in Gohan's eyes, and he thought about everyone who was going to die in the next few hours if things proceeded as they did in canon.
"This is such a bad idea," Danny said, even as he started running toward the battlefield. "This is the worst idea I've ever had, and I once tried to make toast in the shower."
He didn't know how to access his transformation ability. The cosmic entity hadn't exactly left him an instruction manual. But as he ran, as the reality of the situation pressed down on him like a physical weight, he felt something shift inside him.
It was like reaching for a door that had always been there but that he'd never noticed before. A door in his very being, leading to... something else. Something more.
He thought about Omnimon. The Royal Knight. The fusion of WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon. The Digimon that had single-handedly defeated Diaboromon. The most iconic, most powerful, most absolutely badass Digimon in the entire franchise.
Danny reached for that door.
And everything changed.
The transformation was nothing like Danny had imagined.
It wasn't painful—not exactly. It was more like... dissolving. Like every cell in his body was being disassembled and reassembled into something new, something greater, something that had never existed in this universe before.
His perspective shifted as he grew—massively, impossibly, his seven-year-old body expanding into something that towered over the Namekian landscape. His skin hardened into white armor, pristine and gleaming. His left arm transformed into the WarGreymon head—the Grey Sword ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. His right arm became the MetalGarurumon head—the Garuru Cannon primed and loaded.
A cape materialized behind him, flowing dramatically in a wind that seemed to exist solely for aesthetic purposes. His face was hidden behind a helmet, his eyes glowing with power that transcended anything this universe had ever seen.
He was Omnimon.
He was actually, literally, genuinely Omnimon.
Danny—no, Omnimon now, he had to think of himself as Omnimon—looked down at his hands. The WarGreymon head. The MetalGarurumon head. Both of them humming with power, with potential, with the accumulated strength of two Mega-level Digimon fused into one perfect being.
"Holy shit," he said, and his voice came out deep and resonant, echoing across the battlefield like the pronouncement of a god. "It actually worked."
Piccolo, who had only recently arrived on Namek after a very uncomfortable journey through space that he did not want to talk about, was having what could generously be described as a bad day.
Nail, the Namekian warrior who had just sacrificed himself to buy time for Piccolo to arrive, was dying. Frieza was transforming into a form that made his previous appearance look like a children's toy. And despite the power boost Piccolo had received from fusing with Nail (which was a whole thing he was still processing), he had a sinking feeling that it wasn't going to be enough.
Nothing was ever enough when it came to beings like Frieza.
Then, just as Frieza's body began to crack and expand with the energy of his transformation, something unexpected happened.
A new power level appeared.
No—that wasn't quite right. A new power level EXPLODED into existence.
One moment there was nothing but the ambient energy of the battlefield and the terrifying pressure of Frieza's transformation. The next moment, a pillar of brilliant white and gold light erupted from a nearby hill, shooting into the sky with enough force to make the ground shake and the clouds part.
Everyone stopped.
Even Frieza, mid-transformation, paused to look at the source of this new energy. His incomplete second form—half monster, half whatever the hell he'd been before—twisted toward the light with an expression that might have been curiosity if Frieza were capable of such a mundane emotion.
"What is this?" Frieza asked, his voice already deeper and more distorted from his partial transformation. "Another insect coming to throw itself against my magnificence?"
Piccolo couldn't respond. He was too busy staring at what was emerging from the light.
It was... he didn't have words for what it was.
A giant armored knight, easily thirty feet tall, clad in pristine white armor that seemed to glow with inner light. A flowing red cape billowed behind it. And its arms—its arms were shaped like the heads of two different creatures, one orange and reptilian, the other blue and mechanical.
The being radiated power. Not ki, not exactly—something else. Something that felt like data and light and the fundamental building blocks of reality itself. It was overwhelming, suffocating, beautiful in a way that made Piccolo's warrior instincts scream in both terror and admiration.
"I don't know what's happening," Krillin whispered from his position a safe distance away, "but I'm scared."
"You should be," Gohan replied, his young voice trembling.
Vegeta, who had been nursing his wounds and planning his next move, stared at the newcomer with an expression that mixed confusion, wariness, and injured pride. "Who the hell is that? Its power level is..."
He couldn't finish the sentence. Because the truth was, he couldn't read the newcomer's power level. It was too vast, too overwhelming, too completely beyond anything his scouter could measure before it exploded in a shower of sparks and melted plastic.
Danny-as-Omnimon floated down from the hill and landed on the scorched earth of Namek with a thud that cracked the ground beneath his armored feet.
He could feel it all—the power of two Mega-level Digimon coursing through his digital form, the Grey Sword ready to be drawn, the Garuru Cannon charged and waiting. He felt like he could destroy mountains, shatter planets, rewrite the very code of reality itself.
It was intoxicating.
It was also terrifying.
Because deep down, beneath all that power, he was still Danny Martinez. He was still a guy who had spent more of his life watching anime than actually doing anything productive. He was still someone who had never been in a real fight, never hurt anyone, never had to make the kind of decisions he was making now.
And he was currently standing in front of Frieza—FRIEZA—as a giant armored Digimon knight.
"Who are you?" Frieza demanded, his half-transformed face twisting with irritation at this interruption to his dramatic power reveal. "I don't recall inviting any more guests to this slaughter."
Danny's mind raced. What would Omnimon say? The Royal Knight was noble, dignified, protective of the innocent. He was everything Danny had always wished he could be.
"I am Omnimon," Danny said, and his voice came out with the weight and authority that the name deserved. "Royal Knight of the Digital World. Protector of all that is good and true. And you, Frieza, are a blight upon this universe that I intend to cleanse."
Nailed it.
Frieza laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "A Royal Knight? The Digital World? I've never heard of such things. And trust me, I've conquered enough of this galaxy to know every power worth knowing."
"There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy," Danny replied, because if he was going to be an overpowered protagonist, he was at least going to drop some Shakespeare while doing it.
"Philosophy?" Frieza's half-formed face contorted with rage. "You dare to lecture Lord Frieza about PHILOSOPHY?"
"I dare many things. Lecturing tyrants is just the beginning."
With a scream of fury, Frieza resumed his transformation, his body cracking and expanding as his second form completed itself. He was taller now, with a more elongated head and a presence that radiated menace.
"There," Frieza spat, his voice deeper and more monstrous. "My second form. The last thing millions of beings have ever seen before I ended their miserable existences. Are you impressed, 'Royal Knight'?"
Danny raised his right arm—the MetalGarurumon head—and pointed it directly at Frieza.
"I've seen scarier things in a card game," he said. "Garuru Cannon."
The blast that erupted from the MetalGarurumon head was unlike anything the Namekian battlefield had ever witnessed.
It was blue-white, freezing cold, a concentrated beam of absolute zero energy that screamed across the gap between them faster than thought. Frieza barely had time to register what was happening before the attack hit him dead center.
The tyrant went flying.
Not just flying—he was launched across the Namekian landscape with enough force to create a sonic boom, crashing through rock formations and hills and everything else in his path before finally coming to a stop in a crater visible from space.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Absolute, complete, stunned silence.
"Did... did that just happen?" Krillin's voice was barely a whisper. "Did that knight-thing just one-shot Frieza?"
"Not one-shot," Piccolo corrected, his voice tense. "Frieza's still alive. I can sense him. But that attack hurt him. Really hurt him."
Danny felt a surge of grim satisfaction. The Garuru Cannon had worked exactly as he'd hoped—a massive blast of freezing energy that could damage even the most powerful opponents. But he knew it wasn't enough to finish Frieza. The tyrant had more forms, more power, more transformations to burn through.
This fight was far from over.
Frieza emerged from the crater looking... disheveled.
It was the only word that fit. The mighty emperor of the universe, the being who had never known defeat, was covered in dust and frost and something that looked suspiciously like his own blood.
"You..." Frieza's voice was shaking—with rage, with disbelief, with something that might have been fear. "You HURT me. Do you have any idea how long it's been since someone actually HURT me?"
"About thirty seconds, by my count," Danny replied.
"I WILL DESTROY YOU!"
Frieza launched himself at Omnimon with all the speed and fury his second form could muster. To his credit, it was incredibly fast—faster than anything Danny had ever seen in his previous life, faster than the eye could follow.
But Danny wasn't seeing with human eyes anymore.
As Omnimon, his perception was enhanced to levels that made Frieza's attack look almost slow. He could see every movement, predict every strike, calculate every trajectory. It was like watching a video at half speed while everyone else experienced it in real time.
Frieza's fist came at his face.
Danny caught it with his left arm—the WarGreymon head—and squeezed.
Bones cracked.
"AAAARGH!" Frieza screamed, trying to pull away, but Danny's grip was unyielding. "Release me! Release me at once!"
"You know," Danny said conversationally, "I've watched you torture and kill so many people over the years. Namekians, Saiyans, random soldiers who displeased you. You treated life like it was worthless, like nothing mattered except your own power and pleasure."
He squeezed harder. More bones cracked.
"STOP! STOP IT!"
"I don't think I will."
Danny pulled back his right arm—the MetalGarurumon head—and prepared another Garuru Cannon at point-blank range.
"Any last words?"
Frieza's eyes went wide with genuine terror. "Wait! Wait! I can transform again! I have a third form! A final form! I can—"
"Go ahead."
"What?"
"Transform. All the way. I want to see your final form before I end you."
It was a risk. Danny knew it was a risk. Frieza's final form was exponentially more powerful than his second form, and his full-power version was even stronger than that. If Danny's Omnimon form wasn't strong enough to handle it...
But he had to know. He had to test his limits. And honestly, some part of him—the part that had watched Dragon Ball for years, the part that loved dramatic battles and epic confrontations—wanted to see if he could do it.
He released Frieza's hand.
The tyrant floated backward, cradling his shattered limb, his eyes filled with a mixture of hate and calculation.
"You'll regret this," Frieza hissed. "You'll regret letting me reach my full power. I'll make you suffer for this arrogance."
"Big talk from someone who just got their hand crushed. Now hurry up. I don't have all day."
With a scream that was equal parts rage and determination, Frieza began to transform.
The Z-Fighters watched in horror as Frieza's power level climbed.
Second form to third form—his body became even more monstrous, his head elongating into something that looked like a nightmare's nightmare. His power doubled, then tripled, then kept climbing.
Third form to final form—and this was the terrifying part. His body actually shrank, becoming smaller and sleeker, but his power... his power exploded beyond anything any of them had ever sensed.
"This is insane," Vegeta breathed, his face pale. "His power level is over a million. Over TEN million. It's still climbing!"
"And that knight is just... letting him do it," Krillin said, his voice shaking. "Why? Why would anyone let Frieza get stronger?"
Piccolo said nothing. He was watching the Omnimon figure with an intensity that suggested he was seeing something the others weren't.
Frieza's transformation completed. His final form was elegant in a terrible way—smooth, white, almost beautiful if you ignored the cosmic evil radiating from every inch of his being. He flexed his now-healed hand, his power so immense that the very air around him seemed to warp and distort.
"There," Frieza said, his voice now calm and cultured, somehow more menacing than his rage had been. "My final form. The pinnacle of my power. Do you still feel confident, 'Royal Knight'?"
Danny assessed his opponent.
Frieza's final form was powerful—unbelievably powerful. Danny could feel it pressing against him like a physical weight, a force that would have crushed his human body like a bug.
But he was Omnimon. A Royal Knight. A being of legend even in the Digital World. And while Frieza's power was immense by Dragon Ball standards, Danny had faced concepts of power in his Digimon knowledge that transcended simple energy levels.
"I feel fine," Danny said. "Do you want to keep talking, or shall we finish this?"
Frieza smiled. It was not a nice smile.
"Let's finish this."
The tyrant moved.
Danny moved faster.
The battle that followed was, by any objective measure, one of the most spectacular conflicts in the history of Planet Namek. And considering what Namek had been through lately, that was really saying something.
Frieza attacked with everything his final form had to offer—death beams, energy blasts, physical strikes that could shatter mountains. He moved at speeds that made his previous forms look like they were standing still, his power so immense that the very fabric of reality seemed to strain under the pressure.
And Danny matched him.
Every death beam was deflected by the Grey Sword, the legendary blade slicing through Frieza's attacks like they were made of tissue paper. Every physical strike was blocked or countered, Omnimon's armored form weathering the tyrant's assault without taking significant damage. And every time Frieza created an opening, Danny was there with a Garuru Cannon or a sword strike that sent the emperor reeling.
"How?" Frieza demanded, his cultured composure beginning to crack. "How are you doing this? No one should be able to match me! No one!"
"You've spent your whole life believing you were the strongest," Danny replied, drawing the Grey Sword fully from his left arm. The blade gleamed with power, its edge so sharp it seemed to cut the very light around it. "You've never had to struggle, never had to push beyond your limits, never had to face someone who could genuinely defeat you. That's made you weak."
"WEAK?! I AM LORD FRIEZA! I AM THE STRONGEST BEING IN THE UNIVERSE!"
"You were. Past tense."
Danny swung the Grey Sword.
The attack wasn't just a physical strike—it was the Transcendent Sword technique, Omnimon's signature move, a slash that could cut through anything and everything in its path. The blade traced an arc of pure white light across the Namekian sky.
Frieza raised his arms to block.
The sword cut through his guard like it wasn't there.
Purple blood sprayed across the battlefield as Frieza screamed, his left arm severed cleanly at the elbow. The tyrant's cultivated composure shattered completely, replaced by raw, animal panic.
"NO! NO! THIS ISN'T POSSIBLE!"
Danny pointed the Garuru Cannon at the wounded tyrant.
"It's possible," he said. "It's happening. And now it's ending."
"WAIT!"
Danny paused. Not because he was merciful—the Omnimon instincts in him were crying out for victory, for the complete destruction of this evil—but because he was curious.
"Wait for what?"
"I... I can still transform! I'm only using a fraction of my power! If you let me reach one hundred percent, I'll—"
"You'll still lose. But sure, go ahead. Power up to one hundred percent. I'll wait."
Frieza stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "You're... you're letting me power up AGAIN? After everything I just showed you?"
"I want you at your absolute best when I defeat you. I want there to be no excuses, no 'what ifs,' no claims that you could have won if only you'd had more time. I want you to know, with absolute certainty, that nothing you could ever do would be enough to stop me."
It was arrogant. It was reckless. It was exactly the kind of thing that got heroes killed in every story Danny had ever read.
But Danny wasn't here to be a hero. He was here to make a statement. To establish himself as something so far beyond Frieza that the tyrant's empire would crumble from the mere knowledge of his existence.
Also, he was about ninety percent sure he could handle one hundred percent Frieza.
Okay, seventy percent sure.
Sixty.
It would be fine. Probably.
"He's insane," Krillin said flatly. "That knight guy is absolutely insane."
"He's giving Frieza time to power up to maximum," Vegeta said, and for once, there was no arrogance in his voice—only a kind of horrified fascination. "Either he's the most arrogant being in existence, or he genuinely believes he can handle anything Frieza throws at him."
"Can he?" Gohan asked quietly. "Can anyone really be that strong?"
Piccolo considered the question. He had been watching the battle closely, analyzing every move, every attack, every display of power. And he had come to a conclusion that both terrified and excited him.
"Yes," he said finally. "He can. That being—whatever it is—is operating on a completely different level than anything we've ever seen. Frieza's power might as well be nothing to him."
"But how?" Vegeta demanded. "Where did he come from? What is he?"
"I don't know. But I intend to find out."
On the battlefield, Frieza was powering up.
It was an ugly process—his muscles bulging, his veins protruding, his body straining to contain the immense energy he was drawing forth. The air around him crackled with power, the ground beneath him cracking and cratering under the pressure.
"ONE HUNDRED PERCENT!" Frieza screamed, his aura flaring so brightly it was almost blinding. "THIS IS MY FULL POWER! THE MAXIMUM I CAN ACHIEVE! NO ONE IN THE UNIVERSE CAN MATCH THIS!"
Danny looked at the powered-up tyrant.
He was stronger, certainly. Much stronger than before. His power had increased by at least double, maybe more. In his previous life, Danny would have been terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought.
But he wasn't in his previous life anymore.
And he wasn't Danny Martinez anymore.
He was Omnimon.
"Are you done?" Danny asked calmly.
Frieza's eye twitched.
"ARE YOU MOCKING ME?!"
"A little bit. Shall we continue?"
With a roar of pure rage, Frieza launched his most powerful attack—a massive ball of energy, easily the size of a small moon, designed to destroy the very planet they stood on.
"DESTROY THIS WORLD AND EVERYONE ON IT!" Frieza screamed. "IF I CAN'T BEAT YOU FAIRLY, I'LL JUST BLOW UP THE PLANET! LET'S SEE YOU SURVIVE IN THE VACUUM OF SPACE, 'ROYAL KNIGHT'!"
The attack descended toward Namek's core.
Danny sighed.
"Supreme Cannon."
The Garuru Cannon fired again—but this wasn't like before. This was Omnimon's ultimate technique, a concentrated blast of frozen energy that could erase anything from existence. The blue-white beam shot upward, intercepting Frieza's planet-destroying attack and overwhelming it completely.
The attack didn't just stop the energy ball—it absorbed it, converted it, and kept going, shooting past Frieza and disappearing into the atmosphere before dissipating harmlessly in space.
Frieza stared in utter disbelief.
"That... that was my most powerful attack..."
"And it wasn't enough. It will never be enough. Are you beginning to understand now?"
Danny floated forward, closing the distance between them. With each foot he moved, Frieza's resolve crumbled a little more. The tyrant's one hundred percent form, which should have been unstoppable, looked small and fragile compared to the approaching knight.
"I could have ended you at any point in this battle," Danny said, his voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "I let you transform. I let you power up. I gave you every possible advantage because I wanted you to understand something."
He raised the Grey Sword.
"The era of tyrants like you is over. The universe has a new guardian now. And I will not tolerate the things you've done."
"Wait—wait—I can be useful!" Frieza's voice cracked with desperation. "I have an empire! Resources! Information! I can serve you! I can—"
"You can die."
The Grey Sword fell.
Frieza's final form, at one hundred percent power, was bisected cleanly from head to groin.
The two halves of the galactic emperor fell in opposite directions, hitting the Namekian soil with twin thuds that seemed impossibly quiet after all the noise of the battle.
And just like that, it was over.
Danny floated above the battlefield, looking down at Frieza's bisected corpse, and tried to figure out how he felt.
Relief? Certainly. The battle was won, the tyrant was dead, and the immediate threat was eliminated.
Satisfaction? Maybe a little. He'd done something good here, something that would save countless lives across the galaxy.
But mostly, he felt... tired. Not physically—his Omnimon form was still fresh, still thrumming with power—but emotionally, spiritually exhausted.
He'd just killed someone. Cut them in half with a sword. Watched the light leave their eyes.
Frieza had deserved it. By any measure, the tyrant had deserved far worse. But that didn't make the act of killing any easier to process.
"Is this what being a hero feels like?" Danny murmured to himself. "Because it kind of sucks."
He turned to face the Z-Fighters, who were staring at him with expressions ranging from awe to fear to suspicion.
"It's over," Danny announced, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "Frieza is dead. The threat is ended. You're all safe now."
"Who are you?" Piccolo demanded, stepping forward. The Namekian warrior had one hand raised, ready to form an attack if needed—not that it would do much against Omnimon's power. "Where did you come from? Why did you help us?"
Good questions. Danny wished he had good answers.
He considered various responses. He could tell them the truth—that he was a reincarnated human from another universe with the power to transform into any Digimon. But that would raise more questions than it answered, and it might make him sound crazy.
He could lie—claim to be an ancient guardian from a distant galaxy, awakened by the threat of Frieza. But lies had a way of coming back to bite you, especially in a universe where telepathy and truth-detecting techniques existed.
In the end, he settled for something in between.
"I am Omnimon," he said. "A Royal Knight from a realm beyond your understanding. I was drawn to this universe by the surge of evil Frieza represented, and I came to put an end to it."
"A realm beyond our understanding?" Vegeta scoffed, though his voice lacked its usual bite. "What kind of explanation is that?"
"The only one you're going to get."
Danny began to float upward, preparing to leave. He needed time—time to think, to plan, to figure out his next move. Time to process everything that had just happened and everything that was going to happen next.
"Wait!" Gohan's voice called out. "Please wait! My father—he's coming, he'll want to meet you! And we still need to use the Dragon Balls to—"
"The Namekian Dragon Balls can handle your wishes without my interference," Danny said. "Bring back those who deserve to live. Build a better future. And know that I'll be watching."
"But how do we find you?" Krillin asked. "If we need help again—"
"You won't need help. Not from me. You have everything you need within yourselves. Trust in your own strength."
It was a cheesy line, but sometimes cheesy was what a situation called for.
Danny shot upward into the sky, moving faster than any of them could track, leaving behind a sonic boom and a lot of very confused martial artists.
Behind him, Planet Namek continued to exist—saved from the destruction that would have claimed it in the original timeline. The Dragon Balls were still active, still capable of granting wishes. And Goku was still on his way, though the battle he'd been racing toward had already ended.
The timeline had changed. Dramatically, irrevocably changed.
And Danny Martinez—Digimon fan, energy drink casualty, and newly minted Royal Knight—had no idea what was going to happen next.
Three hours later, Danny released his transformation and collapsed on a deserted island somewhere on a planet he didn't recognize.
The change from Omnimon back to his child body was jarring—like going from piloting a spaceship to riding a tricycle. His tiny limbs felt weak and clumsy, his senses dulled and limited, his power reduced to essentially nothing.
"Okay," Danny said to himself, staring up at the alien sky. "Okay. That happened. That all actually happened."
He'd killed Frieza. He'd saved Namek. He'd introduced the concept of Digimon to a universe that had never heard of them.
And he'd done it all while transformed into his favorite fictional character.
"Best. Reincarnation. Ever."
Danny started laughing. He couldn't help it. The absurdity of the situation, the relief of surviving, the sheer joy of having power after a lifetime of feeling powerless—it all bubbled up and out of him in a wave of slightly hysterical mirth.
He laughed until his sides hurt, until tears streamed down his face, until he finally calmed down enough to start thinking about what came next.
The timeline had changed. That was clear. Frieza's death at this point in the story would have massive ripple effects. The androids, Cell, Buu—all of them would encounter a different set of heroes, a different balance of power.
And then there was the question of his own role. Could he stay hidden? Should he stay hidden? Or should he step up and become an active participant in the events to come?
"One step at a time," Danny muttered, sitting up. "First, find somewhere to live. Second, figure out how my powers work. Third, come up with a plan for the future."
It wasn't much of a plan, but it was a start.
Danny stood up, brushed the alien sand off his child-sized clothes, and started walking toward what looked like civilization in the distance.
The Dragon Ball universe awaited.
And he was going to make it count.
The next few days were a blur of activity.
Danny discovered that he could transform into any Digimon he could imagine, and that each form came with its own powers, abilities, and instincts. He tested this by transforming into Agumon—small, orange, adorable—and then digivolving through each stage: Greymon, MetalGreymon, WarGreymon.
Each transformation felt different. Agumon was simple and pure, driven by loyalty and courage. Greymon was more aggressive, more powerful, but still fundamentally good. MetalGreymon added a layer of mechanical precision, calculating and efficient. And WarGreymon was the pinnacle—a perfect fusion of power and purpose.
But none of them compared to Omnimon.
The fusion form was something else entirely. It wasn't just stronger—it was more complete, more realized, more him somehow. When Danny was Omnimon, he felt like he was finally who he was supposed to be.
Which was probably psychologically concerning, but he'd deal with that later.
He also discovered that his transformations had a time limit—roughly one hour before he was forced back into his base form, followed by a cooldown period where he couldn't transform at all. The more powerful the form, the longer the cooldown. Omnimon left him powerless for almost twelve hours afterward.
"So I can't just stay transformed forever," Danny mused, sitting in a cave he'd claimed as a temporary base. "I need to be strategic about when and how I use my powers."
That made sense. Unlimited power with no restrictions would be boring. This way, he'd have to think, to plan, to pick his battles carefully.
Speaking of battles...
Danny focused on the news reports he'd managed to intercept from a nearby settlement. (It turned out that his Omnimon form could interface with electronic systems in interesting ways—a quirk of being a Digital Monster in an analog universe.)
The galaxy was in chaos. Word of Frieza's death had spread rapidly, and the power vacuum left by his fall was already being fought over by a dozen different factions. The Frieza Force was fragmenting, with various commanders declaring independence or pledging loyalty to Frieza's father, King Cold.
King Cold.
Danny remembered him from the show. The galactic emperor who had arrived on Earth with his son—Mecha Frieza—looking for revenge on the Super Saiyan who had defeated him.
Except in this timeline, there was no Mecha Frieza. There was only Frieza's bisected corpse, floating somewhere in Namek's atmosphere.
Which meant King Cold would be coming for revenge on his own. And he'd be looking for the being who had killed his son.
"Great," Danny muttered. "Just great. I kill one space tyrant and now I've got his dad coming after me."
He needed to get to Earth. Needed to establish himself there, integrate with the Z-Fighters in some capacity, prepare for the threats that were coming.
But first, he needed to find a ship.
Finding a ship was easier than expected.
It turned out that the planet Danny had crashed on was a minor trading hub, home to various merchants and travelers passing through the sector. And among those travelers was a small ship whose crew had made the unfortunate decision to try and rob what they thought was a helpless human child.
Danny felt a little bad about what happened next.
Okay, he didn't feel that bad.
The three pirates—a mix of alien species he didn't recognize—had cornered him in an alley, demanding whatever valuables he had. Danny had politely informed them that he had no valuables. They had responded by pulling weapons.
Danny had responded by transforming into Greymon.
The sight of a small child suddenly becoming a thirty-foot dinosaur with a skull helmet and the ability to breathe fire had a remarkably clarifying effect on the pirates' decision-making processes.
"I'LL TAKE THE SHIP!" the lead pirate screamed, throwing his keys at Danny before fleeing into the night with his companions.
Danny, still in Greymon form, caught the keys in his mouth and made a rumbling sound that might have been laughter.
"I love this power," he said, his voice coming out as a deep growl. "I really, really love this power."
The ship—a modest freighter called the "Lucky Star" (Danny wasn't about to rename it; he might be from another universe but he still appreciated good irony)—carried Danny across the galaxy toward Earth.
The journey took about two weeks, during which Danny spent his time training, experimenting with different Digimon forms, and planning his next moves.
He tried every Digimon form he could remember—and he remembered a lot. Champion levels like Greymon, Garurumon, and Angemon. Ultimate levels like MetalGreymon, WereGarurumon, and MagnaAngemon. Mega levels like WarGreymon, MetalGarurumon, and Seraphimon.
He even tried some of the more exotic forms—Beelzemon, Gallantmon, Jesmon. Each one worked, each one came with its own unique abilities and instincts and power level.
But Omnimon remained his strongest form. The fusion of WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon created something greater than the sum of its parts, a being of legend that transcended the normal Digimon hierarchy.
Danny wondered if he could access other fusion forms. Omnimon Merciful Mode? Omnimon Zwart? The possibilities were tantalizing.
He'd have to experiment. Later.
For now, he needed to focus on the immediate future. Earth was coming up, and he had decisions to make.
Danny arrived on Earth about three weeks after the events on Namek.
He landed the Lucky Star in a remote area—a mountain range far from any major population centers—and spent a day just... looking at the planet he'd watched in anime form for so many years.
It was beautiful. Different from his original Earth, but beautiful nonetheless. The sky was the right shade of blue, the grass was the right shade of green, and somewhere out there, Son Goku was probably eating an inhuman amount of food while his wife yelled at him about training.
Some things were universal.
Danny's first order of business was establishing an identity. He couldn't just wander around as a mysterious child with no background—that would attract exactly the wrong kind of attention.
Fortunately, he had a plan for that.
The Dragon Ball universe had orphanages. It had children who had lost their families to the various disasters that plagued this world. And it had a bureaucracy that, while functional, wasn't exactly known for its thorough background checks.
One carefully placed story about being a survivor of a village destroyed by one of Frieza's remnant forces, and Danny found himself enrolled in a small orphanage in a town about three hundred miles from West City.
The name he gave was simple: Danny. No last name. Just Danny. The administrators assumed it was trauma-related and didn't push.
Life at the orphanage was... quiet.
After the chaos of dying, being reborn, killing Frieza, and traveling across the galaxy, the mundane routine of meals and chores and bedtimes felt almost surreal.
Danny made friends, after a fashion. There was Mei, a blue-haired girl with an unfailingly optimistic personality. There was Takeshi, a serious boy who dreamed of becoming a martial artist. There were others—children without families, without histories, making new lives for themselves.
Danny fit in well enough. He played his role—the quiet kid with the mysterious past—and no one questioned it.
At night, when everyone was asleep, he snuck out and trained.
He couldn't afford to let his skills atrophy. The threats he knew were coming—the Androids, Cell, Buu—were still out there, still part of the future. And while the Z-Fighters were stronger than they had been in the original timeline (he hoped), Danny couldn't rely on them to handle everything.
He was part of this universe now. He had power. He had responsibility.
He just wished he knew what to do with it.
Four months after arriving on Earth, Danny got his answer.
He was in the middle of a transformation exercise—practicing how quickly he could shift from Agumon to Greymon to MetalGreymon—when he felt it.
A power level. Massive, oppressive, familiar.
Coming toward Earth.
"No," Danny breathed, his MetalGreymon form dissolving back into his child body. "No, no, no. It's too early."
But he knew, with horrible certainty, who it was.
King Cold. And whoever he had brought with him.
They were coming for revenge.
And Danny was the only one who knew they were coming.
He transformed into Omnimon without hesitation.
The familiar rush of power flooded through him as his body expanded, armored, became something greater than human. The Grey Sword materialized in his left arm, the Garuru Cannon in his right. His cape fluttered behind him as he rose into the sky.
Far below, the orphanage continued its peaceful evening routine. The children were getting ready for bed. The staff were doing their final rounds. None of them had any idea what was approaching.
Danny shot toward the approaching power signatures, moving faster than sound, faster than light, determined to intercept the threat before it reached populated areas.
He found them in the upper atmosphere—King Cold, massive and imposing, and beside him...
Danny's heart stopped.
Cooler. Frieza's brother. And behind them both, an army. Hundreds of soldiers, dozens of ships, all of them descending toward Earth like a plague of locusts.
This wasn't a revenge mission.
This was an invasion.
King Cold spotted Omnimon first.
"Well, well," the massive tyrant rumbled, his voice carrying across the vacuum of space (somehow—Danny didn't question it; this was Dragon Ball, physics were more of a suggestion than a rule). "What do we have here? A welcoming committee?"
"You're the one who killed my brother," Cooler said, his voice colder than his father's. "I've seen the recordings. That white armor, those ridiculous arms. You're the 'Omnimon' that's been making waves across the galaxy."
"I am," Danny confirmed. "And you're not welcome here."
"Not welcome?" King Cold laughed. "Boy, we don't need your welcome. We're here to burn this planet to ash, torture anyone who might have information about you, and then find you and make you pay for what you did to Frieza."
"Sounds like you have a busy schedule."
"We do. And it starts with your death."
King Cold and Cooler moved simultaneously.
Danny drew the Grey Sword.
The battle in Earth's upper atmosphere was brief, brutal, and absolutely one-sided.
King Cold was powerful—more powerful than Frieza had been, even. His attacks carried weight, carried menace, carried the experience of a being who had conquered galaxies.
But he wasn't Omnimon.
Danny's first slash took King Cold's arm off at the shoulder. His second slash bisected Cooler at the waist. His Garuru Cannon vaporized the army behind them before they could even react.
Thirty seconds. That was how long the "invasion" lasted.
King Cold, clutching the stump of his arm, stared at Danny with eyes full of disbelief.
"What... what ARE you?"
"I already told you. I'm Omnimon. Royal Knight. Guardian of this world."
"You're a monster."
"Says the being who was planning to burn this planet to ash."
Danny raised the Grey Sword.
"Any last words?"
King Cold opened his mouth—probably to beg, or threaten, or offer some kind of bargain.
Danny didn't wait to find out.
The Grey Sword fell, and the Cold family line ended.
Danny floated in space, surrounded by the debris of the Cold Force fleet, and took a moment to appreciate the view.
Earth hung below him, blue and green and beautiful. The planet was safe—at least for now. The immediate threat had been neutralized, and the Cold family would never threaten anyone again.
But Danny knew this was only the beginning.
There were other threats out there. The Androids. Cell. Buu. And maybe others—beings and events that had been changed by his interference in the timeline.
He had power. He had knowledge. He had responsibility.
The question was: what was he going to do with it?
Danny looked at Earth one more time, then began his descent.
He had an orphanage to get back to. A cover identity to maintain. A future to prepare for.
The Dragon Ball universe had a new guardian now.
And things were about to get very interesting.
Meanwhile, somewhere on Earth, a certain scientist was reviewing data from his hidden laboratory.
Dr. Gero had seen the battle. His spy satellites, designed to monitor the Z-Fighters, had caught everything—the arrival of the Cold Force, the appearance of the white-armored knight, the swift and brutal destruction of two of the most powerful beings in the known universe.
"Fascinating," the old scientist murmured, replaying the footage of Omnimon's Grey Sword cutting through King Cold like butter. "Absolutely fascinating."
His Androids were nearly complete. Numbers 17 and 18 were reaching the final stages of development. His ultimate creation, Cell, was growing in his underground lab.
But this new variable... this "Omnimon"... changed everything.
Dr. Gero began recalculating.
The Z-Fighters were no longer his only concern. There was something else out there now—something far more powerful, far more dangerous, far more interesting.
His Androids would need to be stronger. Cell would need to be perfected.
The future Dr. Gero had been planning for was shifting, changing, becoming something new.
And he intended to be ready.
Danny returned to the orphanage just before dawn, sneaking back into his room without anyone noticing.
He lay in his small bed, staring at the ceiling, and tried to process everything that had happened.
He'd killed King Cold. He'd killed Cooler. He'd destroyed an entire invasion force by himself, in under a minute.
The power was intoxicating. The responsibility was terrifying.
And somewhere out there, forces were moving. Plans were being made. The future was being written.
Danny closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
Tomorrow was going to be a busy day.
Tomorrow, the real work would begin.
END OF CHAPTER 1
Author's Note: So yeah, that was chapter one! Omnimon Danny has arrived and he is NOT playing around. The Cold family got absolutely demolished, Dr. Gero is now aware of a major new variable, and our protagonist is trying to balance being an orphan child with being a dimension-hopping Royal Knight.
Next time: Danny makes contact with the Z-Fighters (accidentally), discovers that someone else in this universe knows about Digimon (impossibly), and has to explain to Bulma why there's a giant orange dinosaur in her backyard (comedically).
Also Piccolo might try to fight him. Because Piccolo.