A terminal flickered to life as she entered. A hologram shimmered—a gaunt, spectacled man with a nervous tic in his left eye.
“Because it’s personal,” Yamamoto hissed. “A fan-fiction of the soul. I collected three. The Echo of Goku’s reckless hunger. The Echo of Piccolo’s isolation. And the Echo of your vanity, Bulma. Your desperate need to be the smartest in any room.” Bulma Adventure 4 -YamamotoDoujinshi-
The echo-Goku lunged. She rolled, fired the plasma pistol—the beam passed right through. Physical attacks were useless. These weren’t monsters; they were arguments . A terminal flickered to life as she entered
Bulma’s gut said this was a trap. Her genius said it was the most fascinating puzzle in twenty years. “A fan-fiction of the soul
“Oh, fantastic,” Bulma sighed, grabbing a compact capsule. “Nazi scientists with a ghost complex. My favorite.”
The third was… herself. A Bulma made of fractured mirrors, her eyes two ticking clocks. This echo pointed a finger, and Bulma’s scanner display scrambled, then displayed a single line: “You already lost. You just don’t know it yet.”
The hover-car descended through the clouds, revealing an island that didn’t appear on any map. At its center stood a research tower, older than Capsule Corp’s own, its steel skin peeled back like a rotten fruit. The symbol of the pre-Z-fighter-era Red Ribbon Army—a faded, skull-less crimson ribbon—was stamped on the door.