DRAGON BALL: SEVEN STONES

Age 783. The Super Hero incident is settled, the tournament brackets are filling, and for the first time in a century of miracles, the sky does not go black at noon. It can't. Every Dragon Ball in the living worlds stands petrified - Earth's seven resting as grey stone in a guardian's keeping, the divine set dark in higher custody - a moratorium against the strain of too many wishes, too fast, for too long. Only Namek's dragon still answers, at the end of a long road, behind a careful clan and an older language. Miracles are not gone. They are rationed. And the quiet has a shape. An emperor in black files his debts instead of collecting them. Red Ribbon embers glow in a tower's sublevels. A swordsman plays the same sealing melody every dusk. And in a place sideways of history, where dead futures are archived, something in a stasis array has gone very, very still. Every legend is alive somewhere, from Kame House to the Rift. Walk in. Forge yours. Deaths linger here, villains horrify, and breather episodes breathe - and seven stones are waiting to become keys again.