What if Gohan landed in DC 2

The beams clashed in a cataclysmic explosion of light, the sheer force of the impact rippling through space. Gohan's aura flared wildly, its deep violet hue flickering like a firestorm. His energy surged to its peak, but something gnawed at the back of his mind.

The universe… is a lot heavier than I expected…

His arm trembled, not from exhaustion, but from the overwhelming pressure bearing down on him. It wasn't just Trigon's power—there was something more, something fundamental about the nature of reality now that made every movement feel like dragging an entire galaxy. And yet, against that suffocating weight, he still held fast, his Kamehameha unwavering.

Trigon's cruel smirk deepened as he bore down, his own crimson beam swelling in size. "You are a fool, child," the demon god sneered. "You anchor yourself in space, hoping to contest me? That is a mistake."

A mistake.

Gohan gritted his teeth. He knew this was a precarious position, but letting go, even for an instant, would mean total annihilation.

Trigon sensed the hesitation, and his wicked laughter filled the void.

"There it is. Your limit."

The pressure doubled. The universe itself trembled under the demon's might. Gohan's arm buckled, bending slightly under the combined weight of the cosmos and his own Ki's defiance.

Damn it… he won't give me a second—

And then, silence.

For a single moment, Gohan blocked out the chaos.

A flicker of frustration—no, something deeper. Annoyance.

And in that moment, something inside him clicked.

His aura darkened, tendrils of deep violet energy crackling around him. Power surged through every fiber of his being, like an ocean finally breaking past the dam. His energy shifted—no longer merely divine, but something far more absolute.

The power of destruction.

"Enough."

The word came not as a shout, but a decree.

The universe itself seemed to pause in reverence.

A sudden detonation of raw power erupted from Gohan's body, his aura igniting into an incandescent storm of purple light. The weight that had once bound him felt insignificant now, as though a mountain had been reduced to a grain of sand. His arm snapped back into place.

And then his Kamehameha quadrupled in intensity.

Trigon's confident smirk vanished in an instant.

"Insolence!" he roared, but his words were drowned out by the overwhelming force of Gohan's attack.

His own crimson energy buckled, cracks forming along its surface as the blue wave of destruction bore down on him.

'Impossible!' Trigon's mind reeled. How could this youngling—this mere insect—produce such overwhelming force?!

At the last possible second, the demon god twisted his form and disengaged, allowing the Kamehameha to sail past him harmlessly.

Gohan exhaled, his smirk visible through the flickering light. "What's wrong? Running already?"

Trigon's fists clenched. His frustration melted into something more sinister—a knowing, arrogant grin.

"You think you've won something here, boy?" His voice dripped with venom. The very fabric of reality trembled as his presence expanded.

"This universe you protect so dearly… is filled with nothing. A worthless space, teeming with worthless insects."

Gohan's smirk didn't falter. "If they're so worthless, why do you want to consume them?"

The demon god's expression darkened.

The universe groaned under the pressure of their combined power.

But Gohan wasn't concerned with the fight anymore. His power expanded outward, and with a final push, the rifts in reality—the tears in the universe—sealed shut. A translucent violet barrier crystallized around the fractured space, locking it away from the Abyss's influence.

He exhaled. That should hold for now.

And with that concern lifted from his mind, he moved.

Trigon barely had time to react before Gohan was upon him. A single devastating blow tore through the void, sending the demon hurtling across the cosmos like a meteor.

Trigon came to a stop, seething. He wiped his nose absentmindedly before glancing at his fingers.

Blood.

His blood.

A low growl rumbled in his throat, his body trembling as something deep and ancient snapped inside him. The mere sight of his own blood drove him into a violent spiral of rage and madness. His power exploded outward, crackling with wild, unrestrained fury.

But Gohan remained still, arms crossed, watching him with a blank expression.

Trigon charged.

And Gohan was already there.

The universe shook as the battle resumed.

Meanwhile, far below…

Superman sidestepped a lightning-fast strike, his hands effortlessly catching the small fist aimed at his ribs.

"You gonna keep dodging, or are you actually gonna fight?" The girl's voice was edged with irritation, her crimson eyes burning with expectation.

Clark sighed. "I don't want to hurt you."

She paused for a fraction of a second, her expression softening—before she shrugged. "Father Gohan's Ki has been fluctuating for a while now." Her gaze drifted momentarily toward the sky. "I think I can do that too… if I stop relying on my lifting suppressions."

Before he could ask what she meant, she focused.

And then, the air ignited.

Her golden aura surged, electric discharges sparking violently around her form. Red. Blue. Yellow. The sky below shimmered as her power soared.

Clark's brow furrowed.

Before he could react, she moved. She just got faster

A concussive shockwave burst outward as she struck, forcing him to raise his arms defensively. Their blows traded at lightning speed, his every movement countered by her relentless aggression.

"You're still not hitting me like you mean it!" she snapped, her palm aimed toward the city below.

Clark's eyes widened.

"I will blow up Metropolis from here if you don't—"

She never finished her sentence.

A single chop to the back of her neck sent her unconscious, her body falling limply into waiting arms.

Clark exhaled, relieved. "Thank you."

Trunks, holding the girl effortlessly, offered a small nod. "Figured you might need a hand."

A sudden spike of energy drew their attention.

"Give me back my sister!"

The boy's voice was raw with desperation, his fists clenched as energy crackled around him.

Trunks and Superman raised their hands in a gesture of peace.

"She's fine," Trunks assured him. "She's just asleep."

The boy's eyes narrowed. "I can hear her breathing." His tension didn't ease.

Clark took a careful step forward. "Let us help you."

The boy hesitated. Just for a moment.

Then he shook his head. "You can't. None of you can."

Clark opened his mouth, but the boy cut him off.

"If you won't listen…"

Then his voice hitched.

"Director… lifting my third suppression."

Clark heard the voice protest over an unseen comm.

And then—

The world tilted.

A sudden eruption of raw power sent tremors through the air. The boy's small frame expanded, his muscles bulging, veins pulsing with unnatural force.

The energy pouring off of him was staggering.

Trunks' expression darkened. "You're in pain."

The boy said nothing.

"This form—whatever it is—your body can't handle it."

The boy vanished.

Trunks barely had time to react. He shifted into Super Saiyan God just in time to dodge.

He countered, his movements a blur.

And with perfect precision, he struck.

The boy staggered backward, clutching his gut, his breath ragged and uneven. His body, still swollen with unnatural power, trembled under the strain.

"H-how?" His voice was strained, filled with both shock and frustration.

Trunks exhaled, his sharp gaze locking onto the boy's wavering form.

"A long time ago, I did exactly what you're doing now," he said calmly, his tone steady but firm. "I pushed my body beyond its limits, thinking raw strength was enough." He gestured toward the boy's exaggerated, muscle-bound form. "And I paid the price for it."

For a moment, the boy's defiant glare wavered. A flicker of something—hesitation, maybe even hope—crossed his eyes.

But it was gone in an instant.

"I don't need your help," he spat, his voice hardening. "I only need ARGUS to overcome you."

Trunks narrowed his eyes. "Like it or not, you've got two choices," he said, his voice measured but unyielding. "Come with us… or leave your sister in our care."

The boy's entire body tensed. His breathing hitched, his hands curling into fists.

"I can't—"

And then, he froze.

A voice crackled in his ear through an unseen comm. His eyes flickered with frustration, his jaw tightening.

For a long, silent moment, he stared at his sister's unconscious form, his expression unreadable.

Then, without another word, his body shrank—his muscles deflating as he dropped back down to his second suppression level. The raw, unstable energy that had been radiating off him settled.

And just like that—he was gone.

Vanished into the wind.

Trunks let out a slow breath, lowering his hands. His crimson aura flickered for a moment before fading entirely.

Clark watched the empty space where the boy had stood just seconds ago, his expression contemplative.

"…That won't be the last we see of him," Superman murmured.

Trunks nodded. "No. It won't."