When Dragon Balls Descend Upon Marvel

After explaining the details of the Dragon Ball Tournament, Wesley continued:

"As a contestant, you have the right to bring up to ten people as spectators to the tournament."

"Now I need to confirm with you—if you win the Dragon Ball Tournament, what is your wish?"

T'Challa listened carefully. When the question came, he asked back:

"Any wish at all?"

Cross answered calmly:

"We will review your wish. If it is evil—something like destroying the world—then even if you win, the wish will not be granted."

T'Challa fell silent, then thought of his lover who had dedicated herself to fighting for Africa's people. After a pause, he declared:

"If the Dragon Balls can truly grant anything, then I wish that all people of African descent would no longer face discrimination."

Cross blinked in surprise, glancing at him. He hadn't expected a wish with no personal greed behind it.

Wesley nodded.

"Your wish is recorded."

"Before the tournament begins, someone will come to escort you and your chosen spectators to the arena. Until then, keep the Dragon Ball safe."

With that, Wesley and Cross turned to leave.

As they went, T'Challa clenched the golden coin in his palm, muttering:

"Such arrogant men…"

The humiliation burned. He knew the only reason he'd been floored in one strike was because he hadn't worn the Black Panther suit. With it, he was certain the outcome would have been different. And besides, this was just the false palace, with no vibranium weapons or defenses. If it had been the real Wakandan citadel, he would not have let things stand so easily.

······

On the flight back, Cross studied his son and spoke in a low voice:

"You've grown reckless, Wesley."

Wesley shook his head, unconcerned.

"The file barely contained anything. Just a name, appearance, and status. He kept prying, so I tested him. Turns out his body's tougher than I thought. Took a strike and didn't break—that makes him a superhuman."

Cross frowned.

"You had the Dragon Ball Detector. You didn't need to lay hands on him. If you'd killed him by accident—even if he was black—it would have damaged our reputation. We're there to confirm participation, not pick fights."

Wesley nodded slowly.

"I understand, Father. When we come to collect them for the tournament, I won't give him trouble."

What neither realized was that Wesley's impulse hadn't come from prejudice alone. After spending so much time bonded with the symbiote, its violent instincts had begun seeping into his behavior, pushing him toward aggression.

······

Elsewhere.

John Wick studied the dossier in his hands. It contained a hand-drawn portrait of a blond man, alongside a brief note: Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard, God of Thunder.

He raised his brows.

"I thought I'd come to understand this world. Turns out it runs deeper than I imagined. The God of Thunder, Thor himself, and he's holding a Dragon Ball."

The Gunsmith shrugged.

"This world is far crazier than you think. And as the tournament continues, you'll see even stranger people."

John sighed.

"Good thing I didn't have to compete last time. Otherwise my wife would never have stood a chance."

Back then, he had gathered Dragon Balls with little resistance, trading favors and deals with ordinary people. But now? Gods were stepping into the arena.

The Gunsmith nodded. Wick was indeed lucky, especially now that he also wielded a symbiote's power.

Following the Dragon Radar, they arrived at Jane Foster's residence, where she lived with Thor and her friend Darcy Lewis.

John knocked. Darcy opened the door, blinking.

"Uh, can I help you?"

John replied:

"We're here to see Thor Odinson. We have matters to discuss with him."

Darcy turned her head and called back into the house.

"Thor! Someone's here for you!"

Inside, Thor was playing video games with Jane. He frowned curiously.

"Who would be looking for me?"

Jane thought for a moment.

"Probably S.H.I.E.L.D. Or… the Dragon Ball Tournament hosts."

Thor put the controller down and followed her to the door.

Standing there, he looked at the strangers.

"And you are?"

John inclined his head.

"Thor Odinson—we're representatives of the Dragon Ball Tournament. We need to confirm some things with you."

Darcy's jaw dropped.

"The Dragon Ball people?!"

The Gunsmith gestured inside.

"Won't you invite us in?"

Jane quickly nodded.

"Please, come in. And… how should we address you two?"

The men entered.

"You can call me the Gunsmith."

"And I am the Night Devil."

Darcy and Jane exchanged looks. Strange names, clearly aliases.

Thor only smirked.

"I am Thor. The God of Thunder!"

John gave a slight nod.

"Thor Odinson, we need confirmation. Do you intend to compete in the Dragon Ball Tournament, to fight for the championship and the wish?"

Thor's expression hardened with resolve.

"I will. I shall compete in the Dragon Ball Tournament!"

Satisfied, John pulled out the golden coin—the emblem of the tournament—and handed it over.

······

(End of Chapter)

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