Two days have passed since Kren warned me: three days to prepare before departing for Earth. Since then, my mind hasn't stopped racing. I wake up with a racing heart, sweat sticking to my skin, and a knot in my stomach that won't go away. If this plan fails, if Kren and his contact are discovered, it's all over. The Organization would hunt me down as a traitor, and worse, the very Saiyans I want to lead would see me as a renegade, an outcast. I would have no way to reach Earth unless I found a ship outside the Organization, something almost impossible on this planet controlled by them. I would be trapped here, condemned to live under Frieza's yoke, unable to change the destiny of my people.
Despite my worries, I trust my plan. I've been working on it for a year, calculating every detail with the utmost care. It's not the first time I've risked everything on a dangerous gamble. In my past life, working for the CIA, I had to plan operations that could go wrong in an instant: infiltrations into hostile territories, sabotages, even targeted assassinations. Most went well, but the few that failed… I still remember the sound of bullets whizzing past my head, the smell of gunpowder and blood, and the feeling of running for my life, with my heart beating so hard it felt like it was going to explode. This is different, but the adrenaline is the same, a fire burning inside me. I have to trust myself, as always.
It's the third day, the last one before my departure. I wake up early, the sky still purple, with a faint orange glow tinting the horizon as if the sun is struggling to rise. The air is crisp, and the courtyard of my house is silent, except for the murmur of the stream running between the rocks and the crunch of dry leaves under my boots. I adjust my armor with a quick movement, the cold metal against my skin, the plates creaking slightly as I secure them. I make sure my scanner is in good working order; the device emits a soft hum when I turn it on, the screen flickering with a green glow. Today I must say goodbye to the few who matter to me, and I will tell them that I am leaving on a long mission to the planet Zyrathar, a distant world that, according to my lie, will take me between four and five years, including travel and conquest.
First, I go to the training grounds, the place where I've spent so many mornings sweating and fighting, the ground scarred by craters and the air thick with the smell of dust and burnt ki, a scent that has become so familiar that I almost miss it. Some of my friends are here, training as always, their shouts and laughter echoing across the grounds. There's Kael, a Saiyan my age with shaggy hair and an explosive temper, his armor covered in dust as he unleashes a ki blast at a target; Torm, the one with the scar on his arm, more serious and calculating, adjusting his scouter as he observes the others; and Lysa, a short-haired girl who always has a sharp smile and a biting remark, her tail swaying slowly as she stretches her arms. As for Kalia, Renz, and Torzod, they left on a mission a month ago, and I already informed them yesterday about my trip.
I approach, my boots crunching against the ground, dust rising with each step, and Kael sees me first, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, his face flushed with exertion. "Varek! Where were you, you idiot? I thought you'd gone soft from sleeping," he says, laughing as he throws a punch into the air, his tail thumping the ground enthusiastically, the movement kicking up more dust that clings to my boots.
"I wasn't sleeping," I say, my voice calm but firm, stopping in front of them, my hands on my hips. "I have something to tell you. I'm leaving tomorrow. A long mission to the planet Zyrathar. Four or five years, between the travel and the conquest."
Kael freezes, his punch halted in the air, his scouter blinking as he stares at me, his eyes narrowing. "Zyrathar? That junkyard full of giant lizards?" he says, his voice full of disbelief, his tail stopping abruptly. "Why are they sending you? You're a kid. They should send a real team. What, is the Organization so desperate now that it's sending little guys to do the dirty work?"
Torm, who was adjusting his armor, looks up, his expression serious, his dark eyes assessing me carefully. "It's a good opportunity," he says, his voice deep, crossing his arms, the leather of his armor creaking with the movement. "If you conquer that planet, you'll make a name for yourself. But don't get yourself killed by some lizard, Varek. That would be pathetic." He pauses, and a slight smile appears on his face, a rare sight. "Come back in one piece. I want to fight you when you get back, and I won't accept any excuses if you come back all broken up."
Lysa, who was drinking water from a canteen, lets out a dry laugh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, water dripping down her chin. "Four or five years, huh? You'll be a man by then," she says, her voice laced with a teasing tone, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she folds her arms, her tail twitching slowly behind her. "I hope you grow in every way, Varek. I'd like to see you… bigger." Her smile widens, and she winks at me, the gesture loaded with a double entendre that's impossible to miss, her suggestive tone making Kael and Torm exchange an amused glance.
Understanding the reference immediately, and instead of playing dumb, I decided to hit back, a mischievous smile appearing on my face. "Don't worry, Lysa," I say, my voice low but full of confidence, leaning slightly towards her. "When I get back, I'm going to be so big you won't know what to do with me." I pause, my smile widening as her expression shifts from teasing to surprised, her cheeks reddening slightly.
Kael bursts out laughing, slapping my shoulder hard, the impact making me stumble. "That's my Varek!" he says, laughing as Lysa crosses her arms, her smile returning, though now with a hint of defiance. "Good luck with those lizards, short stuff! Don't let them eat you! Although with that attitude, maybe you'll eat them," she adds, her laughter echoing across the field as Torm shakes his head, clearly amused.
I wave goodbye, feeling a spark of camaraderie that makes me smile, and fly home to contact my parents. They've been on a mission for half a year, conquering a planet on the edge of the Organization's territory, and I can only talk to them through a communicator. I sit in the courtyard, the holographic device humming as I power it on, the cool morning air brushing my skin. I wait for the connection to establish, the hologram flickering with a blue glow before the image of my parents appears before me, their figures projected in the air.
My father, a tall Saiyan with long hair and a scar that crossed his face, laughs when he sees me, his voice booming through the communicator, the sound distorted by the distance. "Varek! I finally see you, little one," he says, his tone full of pride, his armor covered in dust and battle scars. "What do you have for us? Don't tell me you're still training with those weak children. It's time you did something worthy of a Saiyan!"
"No, Father," I say, my voice firm, straightening up as I speak. "I'm leaving tomorrow. A long mission to Planet Zyrathar. It will take about four or five years, between the travel and the conquest."
My father lets out a roar of laughter, pounding his chest with a fist, the sound echoing through the communicator like thunder. "That's it, little one! Finally, you get a mission worth doing!" he says, his laughter filling the air, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Conquer that planet and become a true Saiyan. Make those lizards tremble at the sound of your name. Make the name of our family resonate throughout the universe!"
My mother, more calm, smiles, her face marked by small scars from past battles, her hair pulled back in a tight braid. "Good luck, Varek," she says, her voice soft but firm, her eyes filled with a fondness she rarely shows. "The next time we see each other, you will have grown to the size of an adult. Saiyans get a good growth spurt between 15 and 16. I expect to see you as tall as your father." She pauses, and her smile widens, a glimmer of pride in her gaze. "Don't do anything stupid, understood? Come back alive. I don't want to have to come looking for you just to beat you for dying like an idiot."
I sit, feeling a lump in my throat, the warmth of his words mixing with the pressure of what I'm about to do. "I will," I say, my voice low, my hand gripping the edge of the communicator. "I'll see you soon." The connection cuts off, the hologram fading with a hum, and I'm left alone in the courtyard, the silence of the stream filling the air, the soft sound of the water calming my mind for a moment.
I decided to go to the metropolis one last time. I fly over the city, the cool wind hitting my face, the roar of ships and the shouts of Saiyans echoing below like a constant hum. The white buildings gleam under the sunlight, their domed roofs reflecting the purple sky with silver flashes, and the streets are filled with Saiyans of all classes, some fighting in corners, their punches echoing like hammer blows, others bartering war trophies, holding severed tails and beast claws as they shout prices. I stop in the air, hovering above the city, the wind ruffling my hair as I watch the scene. This city, with its chaos and its brutality, is my home. I won't see it for a long time, and the idea weighs on me more than I expected. I want to restore its greatness, to make the Saiyans more than just pawns of Frieza, and this trip to Earth is the first step.
I descend into a Saiyan eatery, a wide-open space with stone tables and a dented metal roof, the air thick with the scent of roasting meat and liquor, a pungent aroma that clings to the throat. It's not a restaurant like those on Earth—Saiyans don't have anything so comfortable—but a place where warriors eat, drink, and fight, the walls scarred by punches and ki blasts. I sit at a table, the cold stone seat against my armor, and order a plate of roasted beast meat with spicy sauce, a favorite among Saiyans. The meat arrives on a metal tray, steaming, the strong smell filling my nose, the dark red color of the meat contrasting with the orange glow of the sauce. I tear off a piece with my hands, the hot juice running down my fingers, and bite in, the spicy flavor burning my tongue, the heat spreading through my chest as I chew.
As I eat, my eyes fix on a Saiyan sitting at a nearby table. He has disheveled hair, a deep scar crossing his cheek, and armor marked by countless battles, the metal full of scratches and dried bloodstains. He's drinking liquor from a jug, his expression hard, his eyes fixed on the liquid as if he were lost in thought, his tail resting motionless on the bench. My heart stops. It's Bardock. Goku's father, an iconic character from the series I watched in my past life. It's the first time I've seen him so close, and I can't help but stare, my food forgotten on the tray, my mind racing with memories of the series, images of Bardock facing Frieza in a final act of defiance.
Bardock looks up, his eyes meeting mine, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. His gaze is cold, sharp as a blade, and my instinct screams at me to look away. I quickly avert my eyes, finding interest in my food, my heart pounding as I tear off another piece of meat with more force than necessary, the juice splattering on the table. I feel stupid, like a kid caught doing something I shouldn't, and I try to focus on the spicy flavor of the sauce, though my mind remains fixed on him, my breathing quickened.
A large, bald, middle-class Saiyan enters the place, his armor covered in dust and his face flushed with liquor, his heavy steps making the stone floor tremble. He walks, swaying slightly, his laughter echoing in the space as he holds a half-empty jug, the liquid spilling down his chin. His eyes lock onto Bardock, and his expression changes, shifting from drunken to filled with fury. "Bardock!" He growls, his voice resonating in the place, causing all the Saiyans to turn to look at him, their tails tensing in anticipation. "I remember you, son of a bitch! Years ago, you left me for dead on a mission on Vaythar. I'm owed one, and I'm going to collect it now!"
The bald man, who reminds me of Nappa in size and attitude, pounds his chest with a fist, his tail whipping through the air in a rapid motion, the sound echoing like a whip. "I challenge you to a Saiyan duel! One on one, outside, as tradition dictates. Let's see if you have the guts to face me, coward!" He says, his voice filled with contempt, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of anger and alcohol.
Bardock looks at him, his expression somewhere between indifferent and annoyed, his jug still in his hand, the dark liquid reflecting the light of the place. He sighs, placing the jug on the table with a dry thud that makes the metal resonate, and stands up, his armor creaking as he moves, his tail flicking once behind him. "I don't have time for this, Gorz," he says, his voice cold, cutting, but the Saiyans around him start to shout, their tails lashing the air, their eyes gleaming with excitement, the air charged with the energy of battle.
"Fight, fight!" one yells, slamming his table with his fists, the sound echoing like a drum. "Don't be a coward, Bardock!" another adds, laughing as he throws his jug to the ground, the metal ringing against the stone with a sharp clang. "Come on, kill him!" a third shouts, his voice full of sadism, his fists pumping the air. The pressure of the crowd is palpable, a collective roar that fills the place, and Bardock grunts, adjusting his armor with a quick movement, his expression hardening.
"Let's go," he says finally, his voice low but firm, walking towards the exit with confident steps, his imposing figure silhouetted against the sunlight streaming through the doorway. Gorz follows him, his laughter echoing in the place, a laughter full of arrogance and liquor. Almost all the Saiyans in the place stand up, leaving their food and liquor behind, their boots thundering against the floor as they follow them out, their shouts filling the air with a wild energy. I can't resist. This is Bardock, and I want to see him fight. I leave my half-eaten food, the juice from the meat still dripping from my fingers, and follow them, the dust rising under my boots as I exit, my heart pounding with anticipation.
Outside, in an empty lot next to the arena, Bardock and Gorz face off, their tails tense, their scouters flashing as they measure each other's power levels, the buzzing of the devices mixing with the murmur of the crowd. Gorz's reads 8000, a decent power level for a mid-class Saiyan, but Bardock's is at 10500, and it's clear he isn't taking the fight seriously, his stance relaxed, his eyes narrowed as he observes Gorz with a mixture of boredom and disdain. The crowd forms a circle around them, shouting and betting coins, the air thick with tension and excitement, their voices echoing like a wild chorus.
Gorz attacks first, roaring as he throws a ki-charged punch, the air humming with the energy of his attack, his face contorted in fury. Bardock dodges with a swift movement, his body moving as if he's barely trying, Gorz's punch slamming into the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust that swirls around them. "Fight seriously, coward!" Gorz yells, his voice filled with rage, launching a ki blast that cuts through the air like a blade, the yellow glow of the energy illuminating his flushed face. Bardock deflects the attack with a flick of his hand, the impact resonating like thunder, the blast exploding against a nearby rock with a ground-shaking crash.
Bardock responds with a punch to Gorz's stomach, his fist moving so fast that I barely see it, the impact resonating like a hammer blow, the sound of bone breaking mixed with Gorz's groan of pain. The bald Saiyan doubles over, spitting blood, his body trembling as he falls to his knees, dust rising around him. But Gorz gets up, his face flushed with anger, his eyes glowing with uncontrolled fury. "I'm going to kill you!" he shouts, his voice hoarse, attacking without coordination, his punches and ki blasts flying wildly, some hitting the ground and kicking up clouds of dust that darken the air, others lost in the distance as Bardock dodges them with ease, his expression cold, almost bored.
Finally, Bardock lands a precise blow to Gorz's chest, his fist charged with ki, the air cutting with the energy of his attack. The impact is brutal, the sound of bone breaking echoing in the air like a gunshot, and Gorz falls to the ground with a strangled cry, his body trembling, blood gushing from his mouth as he gasps, half-fainting, his armor broken and his chest caved in. The crowd erupts in screams, their tails whipping the air, their voices full of sadism, a wild chorus that resonates across the arena. "Kill him, kill him!" they shout, stomping their feet on the ground, the dust rising around them like a storm. It's a Saiyan tradition: in these duels, the winner kills the loser, a spectacle of blood that everyone expects, their eyes gleaming with a thirst for violence.
But Bardock remains motionless, staring at Gorz with a strange expression, a doubt I hadn't seen before in a Saiyan. His eyes narrow, his fist trembling slightly, and for a moment, he reminds me of Goku—that same humanity that makes him different, that spark of compassion that doesn't fit with Saiyan brutality. The doubt lasts only an instant, a blink in time, but I see it clearly, and my heart races. The crowd continues to scream, their voices growing louder, more demanding, and Bardock clenches his fist, his expression hardening again.
He raises a hand, an energy sphere forming in his palm, the blinding blue glow illuminating his face, the shadows dancing on his battle-worn features. The sphere grows, the air buzzing with its power, a high-pitched sound that fills the space, and with a swift motion, he hurls it at Gorz. The impact is blinding, a flash of white light that makes me close my eyes, Gorz's body disintegrating in an instant, his scream cut short by the explosion. When I open my eyes, only a smoking crater remains on the ground, the air filled with dust and the smell of burnt flesh. The crowd erupts in chaos, roaring and celebrating, some beating their chests with their fists, others throwing coins into the air, their cries echoing like an animal roar.
Bardock stands there, his expression hard, sweat running down his forehead, his breathing heavy but controlled. Then, without saying a word, he extends his arms and flies off, his figure disappearing into the purple sky, a dark silhouette against the setting sun. I'm shocked, my mind racing with what I just saw. That doubt on Bardock's face, that humanity, hits me harder than I expected. I can't help it—I want to know more about him. Determined to follow him, I fly at a distance that I believe is safe, my heart beating fast as I chase him through the sky.
I follow him through the city, passing through the lower-class district, a place full of dilapidated buildings and dusty streets, the air smelling of rusted metal and garbage, a stark contrast to the upper-class areas where I grew up. I'm surprised to see him land in a dark alleyway, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the abandoned buildings, the sound of his boots echoing in the silence. I land a few feet away, the dust crunching under my boots as I touch the ground, and walk towards the alley, my curiosity outweighing my caution, my breathing quickening as I approach.
As I enter, a figure ambushes me. It's Bardock. His fist flies towards me, a blur of motion that I don't have time to dodge. The impact sends me crashing into an abandoned building, the concrete cracking against my back with a crunch, the pain exploding through my body like lightning as I fall to the ground, the air escaping my lungs in a gasp. I cough, blood rising in my throat, the metallic taste filling my mouth, and look up at Bardock, his imposing figure looming over me, his cold eyes assessing me as if I were an enemy…
Bardock's POV
I recognized him the moment I saw him at the food place. Varek, the upper-class prodigy who has been causing a stir since the Saiyan tournament years ago. A little kid with unusual power, a name that even upper-class warriors mention with respect, whispering about how an upper-class kid beat opponents older than him. I found it strange to see him there, eating in a middle-class place, so far from the elegant areas where those of his class usually are, surrounded by luxuries and servants. What was a kid like him doing in a place like that, sitting alone, eating meat like he was one of us? I was intrigued, but I didn't pay much attention to it. Not until everything got complicated.
The idiot Gorz showed up, drunk and full of spite, remembering a mission on Vaythar where I left him behind. It wasn't personal—he was weak, and I wasn't going to risk my life for someone who couldn't keep up. He survived, but his pride didn't. Saiyans like him don't forget, and he challenged me to a duel, his voice echoing through the place as he beat his chest, his face flushed with liquor. I had no choice. The crowd pressured me, their shouts resonating like a roar, and even though I wanted to ignore him, I knew I couldn't refuse a challenge without looking weak. I faced him, took him down easily, and killed him, his body disintegrating under my attack, the smell of burning flesh filling the air.
I didn't feel anything doing it, but for a moment, as I looked at him on the ground, gasping and covered in blood, I thought about my son, Raditz. What kind of Saiyan am I raising? What kind of world am I leaving them? I shook off the thought, my fist tightening as I charged my final attack. There's no room for doubt in this world. Not for a Saiyan like me.
I flew away from the place, the cool wind hitting my face, the roar of the crowd fading behind me. But as I crossed the city, my scouter detected a ki following me. It was weak, but persistent, a constant buzzing in my mind that I couldn't ignore. I looked back, my eyes narrowing as I scanned the sky, and I saw him: Varek, the elite-class child, flying at a distance he thought was safe, his figure small but determined against the purple sky. He intrigues me even more. Why was he following me? Was he a spy for King Vegeta? It wouldn't be the first time the King sent someone to watch me. I am strong—too strong for his liking—and I know he fears someone like me could challenge his throne, a low-class warrior who has survived more battles than he can count.
I decided to try it. I changed my route, heading towards the lower-class district, a desolate place where no one would look for me, the streets filled with dust and crumbling buildings, the air heavy with the smell of rusted metal and garbage. I landed in a dark alley, the shadows enveloping me as I waited, holding my breath so as not to give away my position. He landed shortly after, his footsteps echoing in the dust, his breathing quickening as he approached. When he entered the alley, I ambushed him. I threw a punch straight into his chest, my fist moving with the precision of years of battle, and I watched him fly into a building, the concrete cracking under the impact with a crunch. I didn't want to kill him—I just wanted to understand what he wanted.
Varek's POV
The pain is blinding, my back burning as if I had been struck by lightning, the concrete shattering against my body with a crunch that echoes in my ears. I fall to the ground with a thud, dust rising around me, the air escaping my lungs in a gasp as my vision blurs for a moment. I cough, blood rising to my throat, the metallic taste filling my mouth, and I look at Bardock, his imposing figure in front of me, his broken armor shining under the dim light of the alley, his cold eyes assessing me as if I were an enemy, his tail moving slowly behind him.
I should try to talk, explain that I didn't want anything bad, that I was just curious, that watching him fight had excited me. But my Saiyan blood boils, a fire running through my veins, the instinct to fight taking control like a wave I can't stop. My ki explodes around me, the air buzzing with my energy, the ground trembling beneath my feet as I rise, my breathing heavy, my body screaming in pain but my mind filled with a single word: Fight.
Fight! I yelled, my voice hoarse, filled with a fury I didn't know I possessed, and I lunge at him, my fist charged with ki as I aim for his chest. Bardock dodges with ease, his body moving like a blur, and his punch connects with my cheek with the force of a hammer, the pain exploding on my face like a fire that burns my skin. I fall back, dust rising around me, but I get up almost immediately, my Saiyan blood roaring in my ears, my heart beating so fast I feel like it's going to burst.
I use everything I know—my knowledge of the series, the techniques I studied in my past life, my training with Zorn, every lesson etched into my body like an instinct. I launch ki blasts, balls of energy that cut through the air with a sharp whistle, their blue glow illuminating the dark alley, dust swirling around us like a storm. Bardock dodges every attack with a precision that takes my breath away, his body moving as if he's dancing, every movement calculated, every dodge perfect. He knees me in the stomach, the impact knocking the air out of me, and I fall to my knees, coughing blood, the bitter taste mixing with the dust that fills my mouth.
But I don't give up. I stand up, my ki rising, my body trembling with the effort but my mind focused. I was fighting with a power level of 8000, holding back so as not to reveal my true potential, but the thrill of the fight consumes me, a fire I can't extinguish. I let my ki rise to 9000, my energy exploding around me like a volcano, the ground cracking beneath my feet, the air humming with an intensity that makes the walls of the alley shake. Bardock frowns, a spark of curiosity shining in his eyes, and he increases his own intensity, his ki rising to match me, his attacks becoming faster, more precise, each blow a lightning strike that I can barely block.
We move to a more arid and empty area, far from the city, a decision I made to avoid attracting attention, the terrain full of rocks and dust, the purple sky darkening as the sun sets, the shadows lengthening around us. The fight intensifies, the dust rising like a storm, the air filled with the buzzing of our energies, each attack resonating like thunder. I launch a ki-charged punch, my fist glowing with a blue light, and Bardock blocks it with his forearm, the impact sending a shockwave that shakes the ground, the rocks around us cracking with the impact.
Bardock fires a ki blast at me, a ray of white energy that cuts through the air like a spear, and I move to the side, the attack hitting a rock behind me, the rumble echoing as the rock explodes into pieces, the fragments flying around us. I stand up, my breathing heavy, sweat running down my forehead, and I launch a blast of my own, an energy ball that shines like a small sun, the air cracking as it flies toward him. Bardock deflects it with a chop of his hand, the attack exploding against a nearby mountain, the flash lighting up the arid terrain as if it were daytime.
"Not bad, kid!" Bardock yells, his voice resonating over the roar of our energies, a twisted smile appearing on his face, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and challenge. "But it's not enough!" He lunges at me, his fist charged with ki, the air howling with its power, I block the blow with both arms, the impact sending me backward, my boots dragging across the ground as dust rises around me. Pain shoots through my arms, my muscles screaming with the effort, but I grit my teeth, my Saiyan blood roaring, and I counter with a knee to his stomach, my ki erupting with the blow.
Bardock grunts, stepping back, but he doesn't fall. His grin widens, and he throws a hook that connects with my jaw, the pain exploding across my face as I fly backward, my body spinning in the air before crashing to the ground with a thud, dust rising around me like a cloud. I cough, blood sputtering from my mouth, my vision blurring for a moment, but I get to my feet, my body trembling, my ki burning like a wildfire. I can't give up. Not against Bardock.
I decided to risk everything. I cup my hands together, channeling every ounce of my power, my ki surging beyond anything I've ever felt, a fire burning inside me, my body shaking with the effort. "Kamehameha!" I shout, my voice echoing across the barren terrain, the blinding blue light gathering between my hands, the air buzzing with an intensity that makes the ground tremble. My power climbs to 11000, a level I've never reached, my energy erupting around me like a storm, the dust swirling like a tornado, the rocks around me cracking under the pressure.
Bardock is taken aback, his eyes widening for a moment, a spark of awe flashing across his face, but he doesn't back down. He raises a hand, his own energy gathering, a white glow forming in his palm. "Spirit Cannon!" he yells, his voice filled with a controlled fury, his ki rising to match mine, his power also climbing to 11000, the white glow of his attack contrasting with the blue of my Kamehameha. The ground trembles, the rocks around us levitating from the pressure, the air filled with a high-pitched whine that resonates in my ears.
We both launched our attacks at the same time, the Kamehameha and Spirit Cannon colliding in the center with a world-shaking roar, a flash of white and blue light illuminating the sky like a second sun. The impact sends out a shockwave that tears rocks from the ground, dust rising like a storm. The energy from our attacks clash, each pushing against the other, the air buzzing with an intensity that makes my bones tremble, my body screaming from the effort as I put everything I have into the attack, my ki burning like a wildfire, my vision blurring with sweat and blood.
The attacks are evenly matched, the energies colliding in a stalemate, the blinding light illuminating our figures, the dust swirling around us like a hurricane. But the equality doesn't last. The energy destabilizes, the clash of powers is too intense, and it explodes in the center with a sky-shattering roar, a shockwave that throws me back like a leaf in the wind, my body spinning in the air as pain explodes in every corner of my being. I crash to the ground with a thud, the impact knocking the wind out of me, my vision fading as dust gathers around me, the taste of blood and dirt filling my mouth.
Bardock is also pushed back, his body reeling, his armor broken, pieces of metal falling to the ground as he lands with a thud, blood running down his face, his breathing heavy. But he remains standing, his imposing figure rising through the dust, his expression hardened as he wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes fixed on me, assessing me with a mixture of respect and caution.
I'm lying on the ground, my vision blurring, my hand pressing against the wound in my stomach, hot blood running between my fingers, the pain burning like a fire that won't go out. I try to speak, to say it was a misunderstanding, that I didn't want to fight, but my throat is full of blood, and I can only cough, the bitter taste of defeat filling my mouth, my breath ragged as the world darkens around me. Bardock approaches slowly, his boots crunching against the ground, his shadow covering me like a cloud, and he raises a hand, his ki glowing faintly in his palm. I think this is the end. My stupidity, my wild Saiyan blood, has doomed me. I'll wake up dead, again, my plan destroyed, my people doomed.
But then, Bardock smiles, a small but genuine smile, his eyes softening as he extends his hand towards me, the glow of his ki fading. "Not bad, kid," he says, his voice gravelly but warm, a tone I never expected from him. "You're stronger than you look. Come on, get up." I'm shocked, my mind racing as I stare at his outstretched hand, the dust settling around us, the silence of the barren landscape broken only by the sound of the wind.
I accept his hand, the pain burning in my body as I pull myself up, my vision swimming with the effort. I cough, blood sputtering from my mouth, the hot liquid running down my chin, and before I can say anything, my body gives way, darkness engulfing me like a cloak. I faint, my mind shutting down as I fall to the ground, the echo of Bardock's voice ringing in my head...
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I'm in a place full of green, the air fresh and clean, the sound of birds singing all around me, their soft trills filling the space. The ground beneath my feet is soft, covered in grass that glistens with dew, and the sky is a brilliant blue, cloudless, the sun warming my skin. I'm naked, my body free of wounds, and for a moment, I think I've died again. My heart stops, panic rising in my chest as I look around, searching for a sign, anything to tell me where I am. Is this the afterlife? Have I died again, like in my past life, my plan destroyed by my own stupidity? The thought hits me like a punch, fear tightening my throat as I take a step forward, my bare feet feeling the cool grass.
But then, the green fades away, the landscape vanishing as if it were a dream, the birds falling silent, the sky dissolving into a blinding white. I find myself standing, naked, in a white room with metal walls, the air cold and sterile, the hum of machinery resonating in the background. A small alien, with violet skin and large eyes, stares at me nervously, its hands trembling as it holds a clean suit of armor, its glasses slipping down its nose as it watches me. Its expression is a mixture of fear and astonishment, and it takes a step back, almost tripping over a table filled with medical instruments.
"There... there are clean suits of armor," it says, its voice high-pitched and shaky, holding up the armor as if it were a shield, its eyes avoiding mine. "Put one on, please. You... you shouldn't be naked here."
I'm bewildered, my mind still clouded, the pain in my body returning like a distant echo, my muscles protesting with every movement. "How did I get here?" I ask, my voice raspy, the taste of blood still in my mouth as I rub my arm, feeling a twinge of pain where Bardock touched me. "Where am I? What happened?"
The alien swallows, adjusting his glasses with a quick flick, his hands trembling as he speaks. "A low-class soldier found you badly injured and brought you to Vegeta's recovery room," he says, his voice full of nervousness, his eyes darting between me and the door, as if expecting someone to walk in at any moment. "You were unconscious for hours. Your body was... was in bad shape. Fractures, internal bleeding, ki burns... It's a miracle you survived."
My heart races, relief mixing with fear as I process his words. I'm not dead. I'm alive, in a recovery room, my body bruised but whole. I smile, a small, relieved smile that hurts on my bruised face, and I dress in the armor, the cold metal against my skin, the leather creaking as I adjust it, the disinfectant smell of the material filling my nose. I'm about to leave the room, my mind racing with what I need to do next, when the alien stops me, his voice trembling as he raises a power level detector with shaky hands.
"Wait, sir," he says, his voice almost a squeak, his glasses slipping again as he adjusts them with a nervous twitch. "I need to measure your power level for the record. It's... it's part of the procedure. I can't let you out without this, I'll... I'll get in trouble."
I nod, but a thought crosses my mind: the Saiyan zenkai. I sense my inner ki, and it's running wild, stronger than ever, a fire burning inside me, my energy buzzing like an overloaded engine. I suppress my power as much as I can, fearing it's too high, my breathing quickening as I try to control it, sweat running down my forehead from the effort. The alien activates the scouter, the device emitting a buzz as it scans me, and his face fills with surprise, his eyes widening as he reads the numbers.
"9000," he says, his voice full of awe, his hands trembling as he holds the scouter, his glasses nearly falling off his face. "An increase of 1000 from the 8000 it was before. This... this is incredible."
I leave the room, my mind racing as I walk through the hallways of the recovery ward. The air is cold and artificial, the scent of disinfectant and metal fills the space. They read me at 9000, but I know my true power is greater. I felt it as soon as I left the recovery chamber: my ki was overflowing, probably close to 12000, a level I had never reached before. My body still aches, but I feel a new strength coursing through my veins, a power that makes me smile despite the pain.
I headed towards the exit, my boots echoing against the metallic floor, my mind swirling with thoughts of what I should do next. I had to find Kren, make sure everything was ready for my departure, prepare for the journey to Earth. But then, a thought struck me like lightning, stopping me dead in my tracks, my heart pounding as panic washed over me.
"Damn it, the trip!" I say aloud, my voice echoing in the empty hallway, my expression shifting from relief to absolute terror in a second. I smack myself on the forehead, the sound echoing as I realize what I've forgotten. "I'm an idiot! Today was the day I was supposed to leave for Earth! Kren is going to kill me... if I don't miss the trip first!" I run towards the exit, my armor creaking as I move, the pain in my body forgotten in the panic, my mind fluttering with the image of Kren waiting for me, probably furious, and my only chance to get to Earth slipping through my fingers.