Shadows of Steel

The senzu bean crunched between my teeth, a sharp burst of relief washing away the searing pain that had gripped me moments before. I slumped against the cool floor of the Spiritual Time Room, my body snapping back to its peak, the exhaustion of Ultra Instinct Mega fading like a bad dream. Three months remained in this warped space, three months to stretch my limits further, and I intended to use every second.

"Longer next time," I muttered, pushing to my feet, my gaze fixed on the endless white stretching before me. Cell was out there, a looming specter, but he wasn't the only threat; this universe brimmed with gods and titans, from Beerus to Zeno, beings who could erase me with a thought. I clenched my fists, resolve hardening; training wasn't optional, it was survival.

I shook off the lingering stiffness, stepping back into the rhythm of my drills, the heavy air resisting every move. Punches cut through the silence, each one a hammer strike against my own weakness, building the foundation Ultra Instinct demanded. The stakes were cosmic now, and I'd be damned if I let them crush me.

Outside, beyond this timeless prison, the world turned oblivious to my grind. But then, a ripple tore through the calm, a dark pulse of energy spiking across Earth, unseen but felt in my bones. I paused mid-strike, breath catching; something was wrong, terribly wrong.

High above a rebuilt city, a figure hovered, green skin glinting under the sun, black spots stark against his form. Cell had returned, his insect wings buzzing faintly, arms crossed as he surveyed the sprawl below with cold disdain. "Half a year, and they've rebuilt it all," he mused, his voice a low sneer, "such pointless effort."

He tilted his head, scanning the gleaming towers of West City's neighbor, Buenzi City, a testament to human stubbornness. "Fools," he said, a smirk curling his lips; they'd rebuilt knowing he could destroy it again, and he relished proving them right. With a flick of his finger, an energy ball sparked to life, a glowing orb of ruin poised at his command.

The blast roared downward, a deafening thunderclap swallowing Buenzi City whole, its streets and spires vanishing in a blinding semicircle of light. A massive crater scarred the earth, smoke billowing where life had been, and Cell's laughter echoed, hollow and cruel. "No Goku, no Vegeta; this is too easy," he sighed, boredom tingeing his thrill.

Eight years roaming the cosmos had honed him, yet no foe had matched the rush of battling the Saiyans. His cells, woven with their DNA, craved that clash, that dance of near-equals; Earth was a pale shadow without them. He flexed his wings, eyeing the horizon; more cities awaited, more toys to break.

In West City, inside Capsule Corp's gleaming labs, the ground shuddered, rattling tools and shelves as Krillin's head snapped up. "Cell," he breathed, his face paling, the familiar ki slamming into his senses like a fist. Bulma froze beside him, her wrench clattering to the floor, panic flashing in her eyes.

"Krillin, what was that? An earthquake?" she asked, her voice tight, though West City hadn't trembled in years. The unease gnawed at her, a mother's instinct sensing doom, and she gripped the table, steadying herself. Krillin's fists tightened, his jaw clenching as he met her gaze with grim certainty.

"No, it's Cell; he's back," he said, his tone heavy, each word a stone dropping into the silence. "That blast, he's already taken out a city; I can feel him, stronger than before." His senses screamed, the monster's power a dark storm on the edge of perception.

Bulma's hands flew to her mouth, horror and rage warring across her face. "Cell? That bastard's here again?" Her voice cracked, memories of lost family—Vegeta, Trunks, her parents—flooding back, a wound ripped open anew. "What do we do? He'll destroy everything!"

Krillin's eyes narrowed, determination cutting through his fear. "I'll face him; Goten's still in the Time Room, and I can't let Cell run wild till he's out." He straightened, resolve steeling his frame, a fighter reborn from yesterday's choice.

Bulma blinked, confusion mixing with dread. "You? Krillin, you're—" She stopped, catching the glint of metal beneath his sleeve, the hum of machinery in his stance. "You're a cyborg now?" Her voice trembled, piecing it together.

He nodded, flexing a hand that gleamed faintly under the lab lights. "Bulma finished the upgrades yesterday; it's the only way I could keep up," he said, his tone steady but tinged with sacrifice. "Like Seventeen and Eighteen, I'm stronger now, not human anymore, but it's worth it to stop Cell."

Eight years of guilt had driven him here, the memory of failing to destroy Eighteen, letting Cell perfect himself, a sin he'd atoned for in steel. "I messed up back then; this is my fix," he added, meeting her eyes with a fire she hadn't seen in him before. He'd traded flesh for power, a price paid to rewrite history.

Bulma's worry deepened, her hands twisting together. "Can you really stop him? He killed Goku, Gohan; you're not—" She faltered, doubt choking her words. Krillin's strength had never matched the Saiyans, and even augmented, Cell loomed like a mountain.

Krillin shook his head, a rueful smile flickering. "Stop him? No, I can't; he's beyond me, even now." He paused, resolve hardening again. "But I can buy time, hold him off till Goten's ready; he's Earth's real hope."

She swallowed hard, nodding reluctantly, trust warring with fear. "Okay, Krillin, go; just… come back," she said, her voice soft but firm. He gave her a sharp nod, a silent promise, and then vanished in a blur, his new body cutting through the air toward Cell.

Back in the Time Room, I pushed through another set, oblivious to the chaos unfolding outside, my focus locked on the next punch, the next breath. Three months stretched ahead, a countdown to mastery, and I threw myself into it, unaware that Cell's shadow had already fallen over Earth. Krillin's steel heart raced toward battle, a delay I'd owe him everything for, if I ever made it out.

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