Dragon Ball Z: The Beast Within - CH32

[Escarot POV]

And just liek that, the sky was finally clear. Sort of.

No more creeping black clouds. Just a dull, sickly-red hue breaking through the upper atmosphere. It wasn’t pretty, but after all the crap this planet had endured, it was probably heaven for the few remaining locals.

“So… are we still leaving?” Okara asked, keeping her eyes closed, because the power ball was still active.

“Yeah,” I replied, staring at my hand. Making sure there wasn’t any leftover evil wizard goo still stuck to my fingers after squeezing him like a purple juice box.

As far as ways to kill someone go, this one has to be on the top ten for most disgusting. I’m pretty sure there’s more than just blood and innards on my hands, but body waste as well.

“Can you destroy the power ball?” Okara asked.

I nodded, throwing a ki blast at the power ball, destroying it. In turn, returning to my normal form.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, before taking flight towards Garlik, at full speed.

It was finally time to leave this place, and never come back.

Staying on this planet any longer was a bad idea, a very bad idea, in fact, if I had had it my way, I would’ve left without meddling in this situation, but I was forced to intervene. Now, I was even deeper in the pile of shit I had desperately tried to avoid.

Babidi.

After dealing with copy-cat; there was a solid chance he would come to know what happened here. I don’t know how that crap works, magic is complicated in any form of media. The rules that govern the realm of magic always seem to be whatever the plot wants them to be at any given time. But if Bebidi’s words are to be believed, and the magic power each one has can be inherited or transferred after one of them dies… then, I needed to leave, and hope this didn’t come to bite me in the ass later.

I had no idea whether or not my suspicions were correct, but if the magical energy of Bebidi got funneled back to Babidi like an inheritance of some sort, and if memories were part of that deal… then I just put myself on a very short list I don’t want to be on.

“Sir, you are–” Garlik began, but I cut him off.

“Get the ships ready to travel to the farthest place from here you can find,” I said, leaving no room to ask why or argue.

“On it,” Garlik replied, obeying the order immediately.

I climbed into my pod, watching as the door hissed shut behind me, and the interior lights flickered as the system powered up. Status: Green. Ready to launch.

Over the comms within the ship, Garlik’s voice came through. “I found a place that meets your criteria sir. The course set. Estimated jump in thirty seconds. Coordinates are far beyond our current sector.”

“Good.”

Okara’s pod crackled on the line. “We better find a planet with real food this time. I’m not living off rations and self-loathing again.”

“You just want me to cook,” I shot back.

“Yes I do, but you are evil and always find an excuse not to cook!”

I smirked as the pod began to rumble. 

I leaned my head back against the seat of the ship. Closing my eyes.

A lot had happened, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what Bebidi tried to do. I had felt him poking around my head, a touch of something foreign. Something that clawed into my skull and whispered, “Give in.”

And it almost worked.

If this had been Babidi instead of his weaker imitation of a brother? There was a big chance I might not be sitting in this pod. I might not be me.

I was very lucky this had ended the way it had.

I could’ve ended up stuck in this place, if Bebidi had been a bit smarter, targeting the ships first instead of me.

I could’ve become a mind controlled slave.

I sighed.

This wasn’t helping either.

Focusing on what ifs was about as helpful as chewing sand to quell your thirst. Besides, there was only so much negativity a man could take before he started to sound like a brooding teen in his emo/edgy phase. I’d had enough of that in my own adolescence, I blame my taste in music at the time, too much Fall Out Boys and Elliot Smith.

And a bit of Michael Jackson, but that’s beyond the point.

Worrying about things that are no longer in my control and or already happened was pointless. I came, I saw, I conquered. Regardless of the odds or threats.

The pod shook as we jumped, stars stretching into lines and then vanishing into the void.

“Finally,” I muttered, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

Off this world, and soon, off this galaxy

Exactly where I wanted to be.

—------------------------------------------------------------

[King Vegeta POV.]

I stepped through the reinforced doors. The hiss of pressure release echoing in the sterile hallway as I made my way to the nursery.

To finally check on my heir.

The nursery was split in different tiers. Four of them. Segregated by birthright and power.

As it should be.

Bottom floor, Low Class. Cannon fodder. Weaklings to be used and then disposed of once they served their purpose. Half of them wouldn’t live to see their second mission.

Second floor, Mid Class. Adequate muscle. Occasionally useful. Rarely interesting, very few reach high ranks in the army.

Third floor, High Class…. That brat that had earned Beerus’ interest came from here. Quite impressive, especially for a bastard born from Paragus’ loins and a low class sow.

And above them all, literally and metaphorically, was the Elite level.

Where only the royal family, the strongest could ever reside, and where my son rested.

I walked past the lower levels without so much as a glance. Not worth my time. If one of them reached the top, I’d hear about it.

The Elite level opened automatically at my approach. White lights glinted off the polished floor. There were no guards. No need. Anyone stupid enough to come here uninvited wouldn't leave in one piece.

My boots echoed as I approached the single pod stationed in the middle of the chamber.

There he was.

Floating in nutrient-rich gel. Small. Still growing. But the power coming off him made the monitors hiss.

Vegeta.

I placed my hand on the glass.

The readings pulsed. A glowing number sat at the top of the display, as if begging me to read it again.

1987.

The strongest recorded power level of any newborn in Saiyan history.

Stronger than Escarot. That anomaly had caused enough whispers when he was born with 1275. Some fools thought he'd be the pinnacle of our kind, the legend.

They were wrong.

“This pod reads true?” I asked, not turning.

“Yes, sire,” Nion said behind me. “It’s been triple-checked every hour. He hasn’t even peaked yet. This is the baseline.”

Of course it is.

“I expected nothing less of my progeny,” I said.

The nursery team stood silently. They knew better than to speak unless prompted.

“When do you intend to announce the birth, my king?” the head scientist finally asked. I didn’t bother remembering his name. They change too frequently to matter.

“Tomorrow,” I replied.

A royal announcement. A national celebration.

The Saiyan heir had been born. A prince worthy of his lineage.

He would grow into something the universe had never seen. Not just powerful. Dominant. Unyielding. He would bend the cosmos to his will. Burn his legacy into the bones of stars.

He would be the one to free our people from the suffocating leash of the Cold family. From Cold. From that slimy, conniving lizard and his tyrannical bloodline.

“Prepare the declarations,” I said finally. “Every city. Every sector. I want it blasted into the sky if need be. The people will know who their future belongs to.”

“Yes, sire,” Nion said.

I stared at my son again.

His tiny fists were clenched, even in sleep. His face was stern. Focused.

He wasn’t aware of it yet, but he was destined for absolute supremacy. His rule would begin in the shadows of monsters, but when he rose, he would not be denied.

“Has my wife been informed of these readings?” I asked.

“No, sire,” Nion replied quickly. “We thought it appropriate for you to be the first one to have such information.”

Good. I would be the one to tell her the news.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

[The Galatic Patrol.]

[Sheriff’s POV]

I’ve seen a lot of ugly crap in my time. Pirates with plasma cannons for arms. War criminals who burned worlds just to make a point. Smugglers stuffing illegal tech or drugs inside their bodies. But the thing that sends a chill down my spine?

The handiwork of the PTO.

And right now, our radars had detected three saiyan PTO issued ships, on their path to breach our jurisdiction.

I stared at the monitor once more, hoping I simply needed some sleep, but no. There they were, three bright red dots blinking across the sector map.

“Sir, do we know if they’re infiltration babies?” asked Dalgro, one of my senior officers. Bald. Stocky. Been around long enough to know how bad the saiyans can be.

“No,” I said, flicking through the data. “Scanners put their power levels way too high for infants. This isn’t recon. It’s a squad.”

That made the room go quiet.

Tessari, tall, lean, green and always two seconds away from a breakdown, cleared her throat. “Sir, you know what the Galactic Protocol says. If Saiyan squads breach our perimeter, we evacuate the target. We’re not equipped for direct confrontation. Not even close.”

She wasn’t wrong. The Saiyan race was listed as a category red threat for a reason. Any patrol that got in their way was lucky to be vaporized before they saw what hit them. The unlucky ones?

Well. They suffered more than anyone should.

“Evac’s the right call,” Dalgro added. “Casualties would skyrocket otherwise. We’d lose more people trying to catch them than we’d save, and we have no guarantee any effort in capturing them would prove effective.”

That was true.

We lacked the firepower and manpower to deal with this, and even if we had both, we would still come short when it came to dealing with the entire Saiyan army or the PTO.

“Very well then–” I was about to issue the evacuation orders of evacuation, when someone spoke.

“Sir,” came a calm voice from the corner, “I believe I can handle this assignment.”

I turned. And there he was. Rookie of the year. Poster boy for impossible odds. The kid who took down the entire Bandit Brigade in less than a day.

And that was just the tip of his long and already unbelievable list of accomplishments. 

He stood there, arms behind his back, posture perfect. Face unreadable.

“You’re serious?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded. “Yes, sir. I believe I can neutralize the threat without triggering any political backlash.”

Tessari scoffed. “How, exactly? Saiyans don’t go quietly. And if we lay a finger on them, the PTO gets twitchy, they would see it as a challenge to their authority.”

“There won’t be a problem,” The rookie replied, unfazed. “As long as we keep it quiet. No media, no open channels, no reports filed beyond your desk, there won’t be any backlash. We treat it as a ghost operation. No noise. No bodies. No leaks.”

I stared at him. This kid had guts, I’d give him that, to want to capture those genetic murder machines wrapped in muscle, fur and ego.

Maybe it wasn’t guts, and he was crazy. But heck he always delivered.

“You understand the risks?” I asked.

“Yes, sir.”

No hesitation, the brat really meant it. He wasn’t bluffing. And the funny part was… he might just pull it off.

I rubbed my temples.

This had disaster written all over it. But I’d seen him take down targets ten times his size, ten times more powerful than him. He had a gift.

“Fine,” I said. “You have my permission to proceed, Merus.”

Merus gave a sharp nod. “Thank you, sir.”

I watched him walk out of the room like he was going out for a simple patrol at the local supermarket. Not face what most would consider a death sentence.

Dalgro leaned in.

“You really think he can take three Saiyans on his own?”

Well, he did capture the Bandit Brigade.

“Can’t say,” I said finally. “But if anyone can do it without getting everyone on that planet killed in the process… it’s him.”