Life in the slums offered few escapes, but Alex found solace in his fists. He fought not for the thrill of it but for survival, for respect, for something resembling power in a world that made him feel powerless. The streets whispered promises of camaraderie and belonging, and soon, Alex found himself drawn to a gang that ruled his block with iron fists and false smiles.
The gang wasn't family, but it was close enough. Among them, he met Marcus, a wiry kid with a lopsided grin and eyes that carried too much weight for someone so young. Marcus became the brother Alex never had, the one constant in a life that felt like it was always teetering on the edge of collapse. Together, they dreamed of escaping the endless gray of their surroundings, of carving out a piece of the world where they could finally breathe.
For a while, it seemed possible. The gang's ventures brought money—dirty money, but money nonetheless—and with it came fleeting glimpses of a brighter future. Alex began to envision something more: a life where he wasn't constantly looking over his shoulder, where his mother didn't have to work herself into an early grave. Marcus's dreams were simpler; he just wanted to live long enough to see twenty-five.
But the streets are unkind to dreamers.
The confrontation happened on a night like any other, the kind of night when the stars were obscured by smog and the air carried the scent of gasoline and decay. Rivalries had been brewing for weeks, and when the fight erupted, it was chaos. Guns barked, blades flashed, and screams cut through the night like jagged glass. Alex fought like a man possessed, but in the cacophony, he lost sight of Marcus.
By the time he found him, it was too late. Marcus lay crumpled in an alley, his lifeblood pooling around him. His eyes, once so full of defiance, stared blankly at the sky. Alex's scream was swallowed by the night.
Grief turned to rage, and rage turned to obsession. Alex's world narrowed to a single point: vengeance. He threw himself into the next confrontation with reckless abandon, a storm of fists and fury. He didn't care if he lived or died as long as he took the bastards who killed Marcus down with him.
And then, in a blaze of gunfire and blood, Alex's life ended.
When Alex opened his eyes, he was no longer on the cracked pavement of his old neighborhood. Instead, he stood in a void, an infinite expanse of light and shadow that seemed to stretch into eternity. Before him loomed a figure—a deity, or something close to it. The being radiated an aura of unfathomable power, its voice a blend of countless tones that resonated within Alex's very soul.
"Alex," the entity intoned, "your life has ended, but your journey is far from over. I have watched you—your pain, your struggle, your unyielding defiance. You are a soul that refuses to be extinguished, and for that, I offer you a choice."
Alex blinked, his mind reeling. "A choice? What kind of choice?"
The deity's gaze seemed to pierce through him. "I will grant you three wishes. Choose wisely, for they will shape your existence in a new world."
A thousand thoughts raced through Alex's mind. The pain of his old life, the hunger for power, the desire to never feel helpless again—they all coalesced into a singular focus. "I want power," he said, his voice steady. "Enough power to make sure no one can ever hurt me or the people I care about again."
The deity inclined its head. "State your wishes."
Alex didn't hesitate. "First, I want to be reborn as the Legendary Super Saiyan, with the powers of Superman One Million."
The deity nodded. "Granted."
"Second, I want all the powers and abilities of Gojo Satoru and Granolah, post-second sniper eye awakening."
Again, the deity nodded. "Granted."
"And third," Alex continued, "I want a Fate System that allows me to master all forms of magecraft, Reality Marbles, Noble Phantasms, and the magic of the Age of Gods."
The deity's gaze remained steady. "Granted. Your new life begins now."
Before Alex could respond, the void dissolved around him, and he felt himself being pulled into a swirling vortex of light and energy. Pain and exhilaration coursed through him as his old self was stripped away, replaced by something far greater.
When the vortex subsided, Alex opened his eyes to a world of vibrant skies and rolling fields. His body was no longer frail and scarred but powerful, brimming with energy that threatened to spill over. He flexed his hands, feeling the raw strength coursing through his veins. He was no longer Alex, the broken boy from the slums. He was Son Goku, the Legendary Super Saiyan reborn, a being destined to reshape the Dragon Ball Multiverse.
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he gazed at the horizon. This was his second chance, and this time, he would take everything he wanted—no matter the cost.