At this very moment, in a future parallel timeline, on a desolate planet in the depths of a certain universe.
Zamasu, who had previously wished to Super Shenron to obtain Whitley's body, was staring in disbelief at the divine dragon radiating its majestic aura.
The expression on his face had gradually shifted from initial fanaticism and anticipation to existential doubt.
The Super Shenron, coiling around countless galaxies, revealed a rare trace of... confusion and... embarrassment in its dragon eyes, which seemed capable of seeing through the past and future.
It had indeed heard the wish of the little speck before it—to swap bodies with a God of Destruction in training named Whitley.
This wish should not have been difficult for the Dragon of the Gods.
A body swap? A piece of cake! Its power could restart universes that had been erased; swapping a mortal's body should have been a simple matter.
But... the bizarre part of this was the guy named Whitley himself!
The instant it received the wish, Super Shenron began to mobilize its supreme power, which could influence all timelines and parallel universes, in an attempt to lock onto Whitley's existence.
But the result... it left even the "omnipotent" Dragon of the Gods stunned.
This Whitley, across the entire, infinitely vast and branching dimensions of time... actually, truly, only had one existence?!
Yes, a single one! The only one!
This meant that no matter how it searched through all possibilities of the past and future, the existence named Whitley was firmly rooted in only one timeline and existed only at his "present" point!
He was not in the past, nor in other parallel futures, like a tree with only a main trunk and no branches!
Fine, so he was unique.
After all, while unique existences were exceptionally rare, they weren't unheard of.
For the dragon, it wasn't too much trouble. But the truly dumbfounding part was yet to come!
When it began to exert its divine power, preparing to fulfill Zamasu's wish and swap their bodies and souls, its power, upon touching that one and only Whitley... actually failed?!
No, to be more precise, it wasn't that it failed. It was that its power was... absorbed by his soul?!
This time, even the dragon couldn't comprehend it! What was this? What was going on with this guy's body? It could even devour its wish-granting power?
A highly human-like expression of embarrassment rarely seen appeared on Super Shenron's massive face.
It had lived for countless eons and granted innumerable wishes, both grandiose and bizarre, but this was the first time it had encountered a target it couldn't handle.
It struggled to maintain its dignity as a divine dragon, lowered its head—which was larger than a galaxy—and its grand voice echoed through the stars, carrying a hint of imperceptible helplessness:
"Apologies, o insignificant wisher. This wish you have proposed... I cannot grant."
"What?! C-Cannot grant it?!"
Zamasu nearly suffocated upon hearing this answer!
He had paid the price of killing his master and betraying the entire multiverse to finally gather the Super Dragon Balls, only to... be told it couldn't be granted?!
He desperately wanted to point at Super Shenron's nose and curse it, call it a fraud, a liar!
But his remaining sanity told him that acting tough against an existence of this level was purely suicidal.
The urgent priority was to immediately activate his backup plan!
His backup plan was the existence named Broly!
He had previously accompanied his master, Gowasu, to the site of the Tournament of Power!
Although only as a spectator, Whitley's overwhelming power that dominated the arena, and Broly's rampaging power—like a primeval beast that almost no one besides Whitley could control—had left an extremely deep impression on him, one he had yearned for!
Since Whitley was too tough a nut to crack, he would settle for second best!
Zamasu took a deep breath, forcibly suppressed the rage in his heart, and looked up again, shouting at Super Shenron:
"Great Dragon of the Gods! Since I cannot swap with Whitley, then please, grant my other wish! Let me swap bodies with a Universe 7 Saiyan named Broly!!!"
This time, Super Shenron finally didn't cause any more trouble.
Perhaps it was because Broly's existence wasn't unique, or perhaps it also wanted to end this awkward situation quickly.
The seven Super Dragon Balls once again erupted in a dazzling golden light, and a boundless divine power instantly enveloped Zamasu.
Amidst the sacred and majestic light, Zamasu could clearly feel his soul being gradually extracted, swapping with a powerful existence in a distant time and space!
His wish was finally coming true!
...
Back at Lord Zeno's Palace, Whitley, who was watching this scene play out live via Whis's staff, was somewhat dumbfounded.
"Wait, what is this?"
Whitley pointed at the image in the staff, his face full of disbelief.
As far as he knew, wasn't Zamasu supposed to be fixated on Son Goku? How did the plot suddenly go sideways like this?
Right under Whitley's nose, in the staff's image, Zamasu's body had completed the swap with "Broly."
The original, well-proportioned Supreme Kai was gone, replaced by a massive body of gnarled muscles, brimming with wild power!
But...
"Hold on... Is that... Broly?"
Whitley looked at the "Broly" in the image, who had wild, long blue hair, a strange metal restraint on his forehead, and an incomparably fierce look in his eyes, and felt something was off.
This Broly's aura, while similar in power to the one he knew, seemed... different from the relatively pure-hearted Broly he was familiar with?
More... primal, and also more... untamable?
"Not exactly, Whitley-san."
Whis watched the contents displayed on his staff with great interest, smiling as he explained to Whitley:
"This Zamasu is very cunning. He didn't swap bodies with the Broly-san we know, but rather chose... hmm, a relatively older parallel timeline, and swapped with a Broly-san from there~"
Whitley finally nodded in understanding.
He carefully sized up the new version of Zamasu in the image.
"So it's him..." Whitley muttered to himself.
That iconic long blue hair, plus that headgear used to suppress his power...
Wasn't this the old-era Broly from the original movies, the one who at first could only repeatedly shout "Kakarot! Kakarot!"?
The Legendary Super Saiyan who was purer, crazier, had a stronger desire for destruction, and had even crushed his own father to death with his bare hands!
Marcarita crossed her arms at this moment, her haughty voice dripping with disdain as she commented:
"Hmph! This fellow Zamasu is a thorough coward and opportunist! He had the courage to kill his own master and pursue his twisted ambitions, but he doesn't even have the confidence to become stronger on his own? He has to resort to such a despicable act of seizing someone else's body and power?"
As she spoke, her gaze subconsciously drifted to Whitley, who was standing beside her.
Her beautiful eyes were filled with unconcealed mockery, and she mercilessly added another blow:
"This kind of existence, whose mind is only on twisted shortcuts, is even worse than a guy like you! What a small fry! Small fry! Small fry!"
Whitley's face instantly darkened.
He turned his head to look at Marcarita and said irritably:
"Hey! If you're talking about a small fry, talk about a small fry. Why are you looking at me? Did I do something to you?"
His eyes rolled, and he suddenly turned to the Grand Priest, who was smiling and watching from the side, and said in a tone that was slightly like tattling:
"Lord Grand Priest, Ms. Marcarita clearly has a strong prejudice against me! Is it something I did wrong, or... is there some other reason why Ms. Marcarita dislikes me so much?"
Marcarita's heart leaped in shock, her beautiful eyes instantly widening!
She had never expected that this guy Whitley, who looked all serious and proper, would be so shameless as to complain directly to her father?!
This was completely different from the pride she expected a strong warrior to have!
"You! You detestable idiot! You shameless... You actually... actually..."
Marcarita was so angry she could barely speak, pointing at Whitley, her cheeks beginning to flush red with shame and anger.
But before she could finish her accusation, the Grand Priest gently waved his hand, stopping her in a way that was gentle yet firm.
"That's enough, Marcarita."
The Grand Priest's voice was still calm, but it carried an undeniable finality.
He turned his gaze to Whitley, that inscrutable smile returning to his face:
"Whitley-san, let's set aside the idle chat for now. I have an important mission for you. Might I trouble you to travel to that future parallel timeline and arrest this Mr. Zamasu, who has caused such a major incident?"
He pointed to the "Broly" in the staff, who was adapting to his new body, a look of ecstatic and savage glee on his face, and continued:
"I trust you've seen it. Because of his crime of murdering a Supreme Kai, the God of Destruction of Universe 10, Rumsshi, has also faded away. Universe 10, with both the Supreme Kai and God of Destruction positions vacant, is about to descend into utter chaos. The trouble this Mr. Zamasu has stirred up is quite significant. I'll need to send someone to deal with it specifically."
Although the Grand Priest spoke of the situation's gravity, the meaningful smile on his lips never faded.
His gaze swept over his daughter Marcarita—who had always held her head high but was now puffing her cheeks in anger—and then over Whitley, before adding:
"Of course, I won't place this entire burden on you alone. How about this: I'll have Marcarita accompany you. She can act as your assistant and guide. With her there, it should also ensure your trip goes more smoothly."
He paused, then threw out a bargaining chip that made Whitley's eyes light up:
"Furthermore, as a reward for this mission, after you successfully arrest Zamasu and bring him back, I can impart to you the subsequent, complete training for Ultra Instinct, without reservation."
The Grand Priest looked at Whitley, his tone filled with praise and expectation:
"I believe that with your astonishing talent and comprehension, once you receive the complete teachings, you will definitely be able to cultivate Ultra Instinct to a new realm that will astound even me."
"Father!"
Marcarita was slightly stunned, a look of surprise on her face.
She hesitated, wanting to refuse.
In her view, traveling to another parallel timeline to arrest a Zamasu who only gained power by stealing someone else's body was something she could easily do alone. There was no need for Whitley to intervene!
Moreover... her father was actually going to use their Angel clan's ultimate trump card, the advanced parts of Ultra Instinct, as a reward for this annoying guy? Wasn't that letting him off way too easily!
But before she could voice her refusal, she was stopped by a seemingly calm, yet unchallengeable, look from the Grand Priest.
That look seemed to say, "Behave. This is for your own good."
Whis continued to watch from the side with a smile, willingly playing the part of a qualified spectator.
In any case, this matter didn't require any effort from him. He was completely fine with his father being willing to teach Whitley more advanced Ultra Instinct; in fact, he was happy to see it.
At this moment, Whis was watching the show with a clear conscience and great relish.
Whitley looked at the three of them, all staring at him, waiting for his answer, and quickly calculated in his head.
That guy Zamasu had dared to target his body earlier. Even though it was blocked by the so-called "Angelic Rank," Whitley had already planned to find a chance to beat him senseless and vent his anger.
He hadn't expected the opportunity to be served up on a silver platter, and with an unexpected bonus!
This deal was a win-win, no matter how he looked at it!
"Leave it to me!"
Whitley agreed with a crisp nod.
Immediately, he turned his head to look at Marcarita, who was still standing beside him with a reluctant expression, and a teasing smile appeared on his face:
"Well then... I'll be in your care for the upcoming operation, my love-ly Ms. Marcarita."
He deliberately enunciated each syllable.
Marcarita let out an unhappy "Hmph!" and turned her head away, giving him the back of her head, clearly showing she didn't want to talk to him.
...
After bidding farewell to the Grand Priest and to Lord Zeno, who was waving goodbye to him with a hint of reluctance, Whitley and Marcarita walked out of the majestic gates of Lord Zeno's Palace, one after the other.
Whitley stopped and turned to Marcarita, who was following behind him, still stone-faced.
"Um... before we go catch him, I need to return to Earth first to make some preparations."
From the moment he decided to capture Zamasu, he'd had a special idea—
He was going to bring the original Broly from the main timeline!
Think about it: the new Broly versus the old Broly, whose body was possessed by Zamasu!
Just thinking about the scene was exciting! The fight would definitely be incredible!
What do you call this? In his old man's words, this was called fighting magic with magic, using the new Broly to punish the old Broly!
Marcarita's expression remained cold upon hearing this.
She silently quickened her pace and came to a stop in front of Whitley.
Whitley was still lost in thought about the two-Broly-battle and didn't stop in time, nearly bumping into her.
The distance between them instantly became extremely close, so close that Whitley could clearly smell the unique, faint fragrance from her body, like a mixture of stars in the night sky and some cool, clear flower.
Just as Whitley was startled by her sudden movement, Marcarita turned her head back, shot him an annoyed glare, and said in an impatient tone:
"What are you spacing out for, you idiot? Didn't you say you're going back to Earth to prepare? Hurry up and put your hand on my shoulder!"
Whitley was taken aback by her self-righteous attitude and subconsciously reached out, placing his hand on Marcarita's seemingly slender and delicate shoulder.
But just as his hand landed, touching the warm skin beneath her Angel attire, Whitley's palm seemed to develop a mind of its own, twitching almost imperceptibly, as if unconsciously feeling the texture.
Just that slight movement!
Swoosh! Marcarita's pretty face instantly flushed a visible shade of red!
She suddenly felt a faint electric current, accompanying Whitley's damned hand movement, spread from the point of contact on her shoulder and shoot through her entire body!
"You... You! What are you doing with your hand?! P-Pervert! Hentai! A lowly mortal with a mind full of indecent thoughts!!!"
Like a startled kitten, Marcarita whipped her head around, glaring at Whitley with a mixture of shame and anger, her voice rising in agitation.
Whitley finally realized that his subconscious action just now might have been inappropriate and quickly lifted his hand a little, apologizing profusely:
"Sorry, sorry! It wasn't on purpose! Really! My hand just... just cramped up! Right, it was a cramp!"
As he apologized, he was thinking he should probably remove his hand completely to avoid any more misunderstandings.
But just as he was about to pull his hand away, Marcarita suddenly shot out her small hand and pressed down on the back of his retreating hand, stopping him!
Then, Marcarita's voice, clearly shy and awkward, reached his ears in a very low whisper:
"You... Don't... don't grab so tight... Just... just rest it gently... B-Idiot..."
"Huh?"
Whitley felt like he must be hearing things. What did this haughty Angel... just say? Gentler?
Realizing she had misspoken in a moment of impulse, Marcarita's cheeks turned even redder.
She quickly covered up her embarrassment by shouting loudly:
"W-We're leaving! Idiot mortal! If you dilly-dally any longer, I'm leaving by myself!"
Before her words even faded, and without waiting for Whitley to react, a dazzling stream of light erupted from Marcarita's body!
Whoosh! The two figures turned into a meteor streaking across the universe, vanishing from the void outside Lord Zeno's Palace at an extreme speed.
The Grand Priest stood at the entrance of the palace, watching the two depart. He noted their slightly intimate posture and the bright red tips of Marcarita's ears, and a very satisfied and meaningful smile appeared on his face as he nodded gently.
"Well then, I shall take my leave as well, Father, Lord Zeno."
Having watched the show and enjoyed the drama, Whis stepped forward, bowing respectfully to Lord Zeno and the Grand Priest in farewell.
After Whis also left, only Lord Zeno and the Grand Priest remained in the empty hall.
Lord Zeno raised his innocent little face, looked at the Grand Priest with curiosity, and asked in his child-like voice:
"Grand Priest, are you going to marry Marcarita to Whitley, too? Just like Vados?"
The Grand Priest smiled slightly at the words, first bowing respectfully to Lord Zeno before replying in a gentle tone:
"Lord Zeno, this matter... primarily depends on the fate between Whitley-san and Marcarita themselves. If their feelings naturally reach that point during their time together, then I, as a father, will be very happy to see such a thing happen."
He changed the subject, a hint of deep meaning in his eyes:
"But for now... it is still too early. It's best to let them be. If one is too deliberate about some things, it may have the opposite effect. This is called 'going too far is as bad as not going far enough,' Lord Zeno."
Lord Zeno blinked his big eyes, his face still full of confusion.
He didn't understand what "going too far" meant. After all, he was Lord Zeno, the most supreme existence in all universes.
He only knew that if the Grand Priest really wanted to marry Marcarita to Whitley, wouldn't it be fine for him, the highest king of all universes, to just issue another divine decree?
It was a simple matter!
Seeing the confusion all over Lord Zeno's small face, the Grand Priest's smile softened.
He gently took Lord Zeno's soft little hand, and the two began to walk slowly toward the palace's living quarters.
"Lord Zeno need not ponder such things," the Grand Priest said softly.
"It is best to let time brew these matters. We have more interesting things to do right now."
He looked down at Lord Zeno, his words slowly guiding his thoughts:
"There are still many Earth toys that Whitley-san brought that haven't been opened. Doesn't Lord Zeno want to go see what other new and fun things there are?"
It worked!
As soon as he heard the word "toys," Lord Zeno's big, curious eyes lit up instantly. All other questions were immediately thrown to the back of his mind.
"I do! Grand Priest, let's go, quick!"
Lord Zeno impatiently pulled the Grand Priest's hand, about to break into a small run.
Seeing that he had successfully diverted Lord Zeno's attention, the Grand Priest smiled faintly and said no more. He silently quickened his pace, letting Lord Zeno pull him toward the palace where the toys were stored.
He had carefully instructed the attendants to send all the boxes of toys Whitley had brought to Lord Zeno's palace.
...
Meanwhile, on Earth, at The Lookout.
Paragus was leaning against a stone pillar, bored out of his mind. He watched his oafish son, Broly, sitting cross-legged like a wooden stump in the center of The Lookout's plaza, engaged in so-called "mind cultivation" training.
Paragus couldn't help but let out a disdainful snort and call out to Broly:
"Hey! Broly! My son! Stop doing this soft training! What's the use of this stuff?! Can it make you stronger? Of course not!"
He waved his arms, trying to tempt his son with what he considered a bright future:
"Listen to your father! Why don't we leave this godforsaken place and go serve the great Lord Frieza?! With your power, Lord Frieza will definitely value us! Then, money, status, power, we'll have whatever we want! You can eat whatever delicacies you desire, and you'll never have to eat these hard, disgusting beans every day!!!"
After he rattled off a string of tempting words, Broly, still sitting in the center of the plaza, remained as if in a deep meditative state, turning a deaf ear to his father's speech, not even lifting an eyelid.
Paragus sighed heavily in defeat, feeling mentally exhausted.
In his mind, his son Broly was a born Super Saiyan! The most powerful warrior in the history of the Saiyan race!
Even if he was going to train, he should be doing the most brutal combat training, madly honing his strength! Not listening to that old Namekian baldy's nonsense, doing this so-called "mind cultivation" and "meditation"!
Could you eat that stuff? Could it kill enemies?
What frustrated him even more was that his dumb son had agreed without hesitation after hearing the old baldy say just one sentence: "Whitley also once conducted similar spiritual training here." He didn't even have a shred of doubt!
"Honestly... I, Paragus, am such a smart and far-sighted man! Why did I have to have such a stubborn son like you..."
Paragus muttered continuously, his tone full of disappointment.
Just as Paragus was grumbling, a streak of light appeared from the horizon at an incredible speed!
In just the blink of an eye, that streak of light had crossed the vast distance and landed precisely not far from Broly.
"Who?!"
Broly's reaction was extremely fast!
Almost at the exact instant the light landed, he leaped up from the ground, his body instinctively falling into a battle stance!
Not only that, a heart-pounding, berserk green aura, like a suppressed volcano, began to slowly emerge around his massive frame!
"It's me."
The light faded, and the figures of Whitley and Marcarita appeared clearly before Broly.
"Wha... Whitley? You're here."
The moment Broly saw who it was, his tense nerves instantly relaxed, and the violent green aura around him receded like the tide.
Broly felt a genuine respect and gratitude toward Whitley!
This respect wasn't just because of Whitley's unfathomable strength, which even he couldn't hope to match.
It was also because during the days of preparation for the Tournament of Power, Whitley and Son Goku had patiently taught him many combat techniques he had never encountered or understood before, and even some principles of how to be a person.
Most crucially, the fact that he and his father were able to leave the desolate planet Vampa and come to live on the vibrant planet Earth was largely because Whitley had told the God of Destruction, Lord Beerus, about their situation.
Otherwise, he and his father probably would have been trapped on that damn planet for the rest of their lives, just like before.
"Broly, I need your help with something," Whitley said, getting straight to the point.
"Are you interested in taking a trip with me? There's a very despicable guy who used underhanded means to steal the body and power of another you. Do you want to go teach that fake a lesson, and while you're at it, let that scoundrel know that your power is not something he can just covet!"
Hearing this, a sharp light flashed in Broly's originally calm eyes.
With almost no hesitation, he replied crisply:
"Okay. We can go now."
He was willing to trust and carry out Whitley's request unconditionally.
Moreover, this matter involved another him being exploited. Although he didn't quite understand what Whitley meant, his words ignited an instinctive anger in his heart.
Whitley was very satisfied with Broly's straightforwardness and nodded with a smile.
He reached out and, as usual, placed his hand on Broly's broad shoulder. At the same time, his other hand naturally reached for Marcarita, preparing to use Instant Transmission to leave with both of them.
However, the moment Marcarita saw Whitley's hand coming toward her, she immediately leaped backward like a frightened rabbit, deftly dodging him.
She crossed her arms, glaring at Whitley warily with her beautiful eyes, her tone laced with suspicion:
"Hey! What do you think you're doing now? We're not in a hurry to travel right now! Don't even think about taking the opportunity to... touch me!"
Whitley looked at Marcarita's "on guard" posture, and several dark lines instantly slid down his forehead.
He couldn't be bothered to explain to this idiotic woman, who had who-knows-what unhealthy things on her mind all day. He took a rather forceful step forward and grabbed Marcarita's slender wrist!
"Stupid woman! What are you thinking!" Whitley said, annoyed.
"If we don't go back and get the Time Machine, how the hell are we supposed to get to the future parallel timeline? You think we're just going downtown for a stroll?"
Marcarita's wrist was seized by Whitley. She felt the warmth and strength from his palm, and a fleeting, imperceptible blush crossed her face, but she was immediately distracted by his words.
She forced herself to calm down and retorted, still in her haughty, disdainful tone:
"Hmph! Who do you think I am? We Angels possess the power to traverse time on our own! We have no need to rely on such a low-level creation!"
"Oh? Is that so?" Whitley chuckled and retorted:
"Then, may I ask, does our almighty Ms. Marcarita know which future timeline we are supposed to be going to? And also, do you have the coordinates?"
"I..."
Marcarita was instantly at a loss for words. She opened her mouth, but the rebuttal was stuck in her throat.
Crap!
She was so busy being angry and... flustered... when they left that she actually... forgot to ask her father for the specific coordinates of that timeline!
Seeing this, Whitley's face revealed a "just as I thought" mocking smile. He deliberately drew out his words:
"What? Is there... something even our omnipotent Ms. Marcarita can't handle? You can't even get a set of coordinates?"
Marcarita was so angered by Whitley's merciless teasing that her pretty face turned bright red. She spoke without thinking, blurting out:
"Who... Who said I can't handle it?! A-At worst, I'll just take a little more time and try them one by one! I'll find it eventually!"
"Heh."
Whitley couldn't be bothered to argue with this stubborn, face-saving idiot.
He tightened his grip on Marcarita's wrist and barked, "Hold on tight!"
Instant Transmission activated!
With a soft sh-sh-sh, the three figures vanished from The Lookout's plaza.
Paragus, who had sat up from the ground, listlessly lay back down after seeing this, letting out dissatisfied grunts.
His gaze flickered to the entrance leading into The Lookout's palace, where a green figure had just flashed past, having clearly seen what just happened.
Paragus immediately propped himself up and said in a snide tone:
"Hmph! As a father, I want to take my son away from here to pursue a better future, and you, old man, threaten me! You even had that Kakarot guy tell me I'd 'die easily' if I left Earth! Weren't you just trying to threaten me not to leave?!"
(Goku: Huh? My words... is that what they meant?)
"That Whitley fellow just waltzes over and takes Broly away, and you, old bastard, don't even dare to fart! You even pretend not to see! Hmph! And you call yourself the Kami of Earth... Ptooey!"
His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached the ears of Kami, who had just reached the palace hallway and had not yet fully departed.
Old Kami's footsteps faltered slightly. His wrinkled face remained as tranquil as an old well.
But his fists, clenched beneath his wide sleeves, and the faintly bulging veins on the back of his hands, revealed that his inner state was far from calm.
His frustration wasn't because Whitley had taken Broly.
In fact, he knew Whitley's character well and knew Broly wouldn't be led astray by him; he might even gain some valuable experience.
His real source of frustration was Paragus!
This guy who freeloaded on The Lookout all day, criticized his methods of mind cultivation, and whose head was filled with evil ideas like defecting to Frieza!
The key was that this guy, who was a weakling with a combat power of only a few thousand compared to the others, he, the great Kami of Earth, couldn't do a single thing to teach him a lesson on his own!
Because his combat power, according to the device on Paragus's eye, was a mere 200 points!
Kami raised his head and looked at Mr. Popo, who had been following him silently like a shadow.
A complex, unspeakable emotion flickered in his eyes—reluctance, determination, and also a hint of relief.
"Popo..." Kami's voice was a bit hoarse.
"Kami-sama."
Mr. Popo replied calmly, his dark face expressionless.
Old Kami fell silent for a moment. Finally, as if having made a decision...
...
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