Dragon Ball Z: The Beast Within - CH20

[Escarot POV.]

I had won.

I stood there, watching the last embers of my final attack fade into the air, the scent of scorched earth and burnt flesh filling my nose. The battlefield was silent now. Just me, the wind, and the aftermath of my first real kills.

I flexed my hands, rolling my shoulders. Surge had done its job. I had barely taken any real damage, and my energy reserves were still in decent condition.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, feeling the power still humming in my veins. So, I took a breath and let my energy settle as Surge deactivated, and my power dimmed, my body relaxing as the heightened flow of Ki faded.

"The fight would've been much harder if I hadn't used Surge," I muttered to myself.

And it was true. Despite how easy I had made it look to outsiders, dealing with them without Surge would have been a much closer match.

The blonde one—Angila—was strong. Too strong to take lightly. His power had been nearly on par with mine without surge, and while dealing with him alone would’ve been fun…. Two-on-one was never an ideal scenario when it was a close match.

I glanced down at the charred remains of the winged guy, then over to the blackened crater where Angila had taken his final breath before I vaporized him.

I had done that.

The grin that spread across my face was immediate.

Saiyan blood surged in my veins, a deep, primal satisfaction washing over me. This was what it meant to fight—to push myself, to win. To crush an enemy with my own strength, to prove my superiority over them.

The battle was over, but my heart was still pounding with adrenaline.

And yet… beneath that satisfaction, I couldn’t ignore something else.

These were my first kills.

I felt… strange.

I didn’t feel guilty.

Or happy, I mean, I did feel happy… but not about killing them, but about the fact I had bested them.

Still, I did feel… something.

I had never killed before. Not as a human, and not as a Saiyan, at least not until today.

It wasn’t like I had some moral hang-up about it—this was a kill-or-be-killed universe, and these guys were the enemy. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t feel bad.

But it was still new.

New in a way I hadn’t quite processed yet.

I had taken lives today.

And I would take more before this was over.

I exhaled sharply, pushing the thought aside.

This wasn’t the time for reflection. I could question my morality as a Saiyan after the threat was dealt with.

Right now, all that mattered was what came next. Slug.

I could feel him.

Even from this distance, beyond Namek’s atmosphere, past the void of space—Slug’s presence, his power was undeniable.

Faint, but growing stronger with each passing moment

The old bastard was getting closer.

I exhaled, rolling my shoulders as I stared up at the sky. It was strange, sensing someone so far away, yet knowing he’d be here soon. A day, maybe two, and then the real fight would begin.

And despite everything I had trained for… I wasn’t sure I could win.

That thought irritated me.

Saiyan pride was a stubborn, stupid thing. The idea of admitting I might not be strong enough left a sour taste in my mouth. But I wasn’t delusional. If I went Oozaru and stacked Surge on top of it, my power would be enormous; probably enough to match what I was feeling right now.

But that was the problem.

What I was feeling right now… wasn’t necessarily his full power.

If Slug was suppressing his energy—and I had a bad feeling he was—then even my strongest transformation wouldn’t be enough.

I clenched my fists.

It pissed me off.

But at the same time… I grinned.

The excitement was there, buzzing beneath my skin like an itch I couldn’t scratch. The rush of knowing that, for the first time, I was about to face a real monster.

I couldn’t wait.

I turned as I felt a familiar energy approaching. A moment later, Nail landed a few meters away, his stance firm as ever, his expression unreadable.

His armor was scuffed, but otherwise, he looked fine. Not even tired.

“Did you have fun?” I asked, cracking my neck.

Nail exhaled through his nose. “The big one was tougher than I expected, despite being weaker than his companion. The other one had… strange abilities. But it’s done.”

I chuckled. “You don’t even know their names, do you?”

“I didn’t ask,” he replied simply.

Fair enough.

I wasn’t exactly in the habit of exchanging pleasantries with people I was about to kill either. I learned one of their names because one of them said it.

I crossed my arms, glancing toward the sky. “How long until the Dragon Balls become active again?”

Nail followed my gaze, his expression tightening. “A few weeks.”

Good. If we didn’t succeed, at least we could deny Slug’s wish. A last fuck you, if you will.

Thank God the Dragon Balls couldn’t be forced out of their cooldown state.

Or… could they?

I turned back to Nail. “A random question… but could Guru be forced to recharge them early, or is that something that can’t be done?”

I really hoped the answer was: no.

Nail’s expression darkened. “He can.”

That sent a sharp bolt of concern through me.

I knew the basics of the Dragon Balls. They granted wishes. Their power was tied to their creator. But beyond that? I had no idea how they actually worked.

If Slug could force Guru to reactivate them before their natural cycle, that meant—

Nail continued, his voice firm. “But it comes with a price. Lord Guru would have to sacrifice some of his own life force in exchange.”

That wouldn’t stop Slug. 

I frowned. “And what happens after that?”

“If he does it once, the next recharge cycle will be doubled. Meaning instead of waiting the normal time, the Dragon Balls would remain inert for twice as long.”

I let that sink in.

That’s bad.

If we didn’t stop Slug before he reached Guru, and he would force him to reactivate the Dragon Balls… then he could get his wish.

And if that happened, we were all dead. Though… if he managed to ask his wish, we were probably dead already, so… a lose lose situation.

I took a slow breath.

“Alright,” I muttered, flexing my fingers. “Then we don’t let it get to that point.”

Nail nodded. “Agreed.”

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

[Third Person POV]

[Lord Slug]

The air inside the command deck of Slug’s flagship was thick with tension. His crew moved about their stations in near silence, afraid to so much as breathe too loudly. The reason for their fear stood at the center of the room, his dark cape draped over his massive shoulders, his dark wrinkled face twisted in a scowl.

Lord Slug was furious.

His elite force—his best warriors—had been slaughtered.

He had felt their energy signatures vanish, one by one, their deaths flickering out like candles in the wind. They were strong enough to conquer entire worlds, to bring civilizations to their knees.

Yet, against this opposition, they had fallen like insects.

Those disgusting weaklings.

Slug’s clawed fingers dug into the armrest of his command throne, the metal groaning under his grip. They should feel lucky they had died before he could punish them for their failure.

"Lord Slug," a voice called hesitantly.

A thin, sickly-looking alien with dark red skin and multiple eyes, bowed low before the throne. His name wasn’t worth remembering.

Slug barely acknowledged him. His eyes remained fixed on the vastness of space beyond the viewport, the distant green-blue orb of Namek growing closer with every passing second.

"Report," Slug commanded, voice low, dangerous. His bony hand gripping his throne.

The alien gulped. "W-We will arrive at Namek in two days, my lord."

Two days.

Slug’s lips curled into a sneer.

Two days before he set foot on the planet of his birth.

Two days before he crushed the last remnants of Guru’s pathetic rule under his heel.

Two days before his wish was granted.

And once he had his youth restored, once he reclaimed the power that had been stolen from him by time itself—

Nothing would stop him.

Not the Cold Demons.

Not the Kais.

Nothing.

He would burn every planet that defied him.

He would kill every warrior that stood in his way.

Slug finally turned his gaze to the trembling officer before him.

"If the opposition was strong enough to defeat my elites, then they may prove entertaining," he mused, rolling his shoulders.

The officer hesitated. "M-My lord… if their forces are strong enough to eliminate Angila’s team, should we prepare additional forces?"

Slug’s expression darkened.

"You question me?"

The officer's blood ran cold. His multiple eyes widened in panic. "N-No, Lord Slug, I only meant—"

Slug’s arm shot out in a blur. His massive hand closed around the officer’s throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

"You meant nothing," Slug said coldly, his grip tightening. "You exist to serve, to follow. Not to think."

The officer gasped, his hands clawing at Slug’s fingers.

Slug squeezed.

A sickening crack echoed through the room.

The officer went limp.

Slug tossed the lifeless body aside like garbage. It landed with a dull thud, unmoving.

The other crew members kept their heads down, not daring to react.

Slug smirked. Good. They knew their place.

He turned back to the viewport, watching as Namek drew closer.

It wouldn’t be long now.

Guru.

The weaklings that killed his forces.

Whoever else dared to stand in his way.

They would all die.

And when he made his wish—when he ascended—this universe would finally belong to him.

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

[Third Person POV]

[Whis]

The palace was quiet.

Peaceful.

A rare occurrence.

Lord Beerus was napping—finally—and Whis had the entire place to himself.

How delightful.

Floating leisurely through the divine halls of the Destroyer’s home, he hummed to himself, a soft tune that echoed through the vast emptiness of it all. His staff hovered beside him as he busied himself in the grand kitchen, carefully preparing a tray of delicate snacks.

Little fruit tarts, dusted with the finest sugar of the seventh universe. A cup of warm tea, brewed from leaves harvested from a planet that no longer existed—how tragic. And of course, a small bowl of freshly whipped cream, because a treat without extra sweetness was simply incomplete.

He placed a tart into his mouth, humming in satisfaction as the flavors melted perfectly.

“Oh my, I do outdo myself sometimes,” he mused, twirling his staff with his free hand.

The blue orb at the tip flickered to life, showing him a vision of the universe beyond.

He wasn’t particularly looking for anything… but then, something interesting appeared.

A Saiyan.

Not just any Saiyan—that Saiyan.

Whis’s lips curled into a knowing smile.

“Well, well… if it isn’t the saiyan that played Lord Beerus, Escarot,” he mused, watching the young warrior. “Still on Namek, I see.”

Lord Beerus had given King Vegeta a very simple task. Fetch the finest pillow in the universe, and have Escarot be the one to do it. And yet, what did Whis find? The Saiyan who had been assigned to the mission, still lingering on Namek long after his wish had been granted.

“Now, why would you stay?” Whis wondered aloud. “A Saiyan, helping others? How… unusual.”

The orb shifted, showing another figure.

A dark, looming presence, surrounded by his fleet of ships.

Snail? Was it?

No, no. It was Slug.

Whis chuckled softly. “Oh dear, I had nearly forgotten about him.”

A minor overlord with delusions of grandeur. The self-proclaimed ruler of the universe—how original. It was almost amusing how often these mortals believed they could command the cosmos when they barely understood it.

And now, it seemed Escarot would be facing him.

Whis popped another tart into his mouth, savoring the moment.

“Oh my, the little Saiyan will be facing the little overlord,” he giggled. “I should probably record their encounter for Lord Beerus to watch when he wakes up. He does enjoy an underdog story.”

With a flick of his staff, the orb shimmered, capturing the events unfolding on Namek.

There was something amusing about this entire scenario. Slug, for all his supposed power, was nothing more than a blip in the grand design of the universe. A localized nuisance, destined to be forgotten. Yet here was a Saiyan—a Saiyan—choosing to stay and fight, despite having already fulfilled his task.

Whis tapped his chin, watching Escarot more closely.

Was it… loyalty?

No, that didn’t seem right. Saiyans were not known for their selfless heroics.

Perhaps pride?

That was far more likely.

Or maybe, just maybe…

Escarot was simply enjoying himself.

“Oh my, if he survives this, he might actually become someone interesting.”

He twirled his staff again, contemplating.

“Now… is this a battle that requires two snacks, or three?”

A moment of thought.

Then he smiled, setting another tart onto his plate.

“Three. Definitely three.”