Eastern Plains – 12:03 PM
The silence had become strange.
It was as if even the wind had stopped to watch.
Before the Z Fighters, Nappa was smiling.
A wide, crooked smile—animal satisfaction glowing behind it—the kind that appears when someone knows something the others don't.
With a slow, almost theatrical movement, the gigantic Saiyan reached for his belt. From one of its metallic compartments, he pulled out a small grayish case, smooth, marked with the Saiyan insignia in low relief. He held it up before him as if it were a sacred chest.
Gohan frowned.
"What… what's that…?"
Piccolo narrowed his eyes, alert. Krillin took a step forward. Tien clenched his jaw.
Yamcha muttered under his breath, frowning.
"Is he… playing with us?"
Nappa said nothing. He simply pressed a small button on the side. The case opened with a faint hisssss, as if releasing inner pressure—and inside lay five small, bright green spheres. They were rough, like fleshy fruits, with a dense, living texture. Tiny roots peeked from their ends.
Seeds.
Nappa reached in and grabbed one.
He held it between his fingers, turning it slowly under the sunlight.
"See this?" he said in a deep, satisfied voice. "This, my little Earth friends… is a Saibaman Seed."
Chiaotzu tilted his head, confused.
"A… what?"
Nappa chuckled.
"A battle toy."
He flicked his wrist and threw it down, burying it in the dirt with a dull thok.
"I told you we were gonna have fun, didn't I?"
From the same case, he pulled out four more and calmly began to plant them in a line before him—each about ten feet apart.
"Heh, heh, heh… Always wanted to see how these little guys would do on a planet like this."
Yamcha's jaw dropped.
"Is he… planting seeds?"
Krillin raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously?"
Tien muttered through his teeth.
"He's lost it. This some kind of joke?"
But Piccolo wasn't laughing.
He felt something. Not through ki… but instinct.
A subtle vibration—like a whisper beneath the ground.
Something was getting ready.
Nappa bent down and pulled another capsule from his belt, a small pressurized water canister. He shook it twice, aimed at the buried seeds, and sprayed a mist of artificial dew.
"Ahhh… there we go. Nothing like a little moisture to wake the boys up."
He stepped back, arms crossed, grin widening.
"And now… we wait."
The Z Fighters looked at each other. No one understood.
The ground was still. No explosions, no unleashed energy—only five small mounds of damp earth scattered across the plain.
Gohan blinked.
"That's it…?" he whispered.
And then—
CRAAACK.
A faint sound.
Like a root breaking through soil.
KRUUUK.
The ground trembled.
BRRRMMMM.
The mounds quivered. Cracks opened like silent mouths. The surrounding grass withered at the touch of something unseen.
And suddenly—
SPLAAASH!
An arm burst from the dirt.
Green. Tough. Three hooked fingers tipped with black nails like obsidian.
Then another.
And then—a head.
A hunched, grotesque form rose from the churned earth. Its skin was acid green, slick with slime. Its body was lean and wiry, muscles tight and uneven. The head—round, bald, with two blank white eyes and a vertical mouth lined with thin, saw-like teeth.
And then another.
And another.
Five in total.
They emerged like radioactive mushrooms sprouting from a cursed field.
The five Saibamen stood in unison. The same rasping growl came from each of their throats.
GRRRRRAHHHHHHHHHH—
A guttural sound that settled deep in the chest—a wet vibration. It wasn't language. It was hunger.
Krillin stepped back.
"Wh-what are those things…?"
Yamcha was already in a fighting stance.
"Never seen creatures like that…"
Chiaotzu trembled visibly.
"A-are they… monsters?"
Tien gritted his teeth.
"No. They're weapons."
Piccolo nodded without looking away.
"Exactly. Living weapons."
Nappa exploded in laughter.
"HA HA HA! Correct, Namekian! Saibamen were made for one purpose—pure combat! No emotion. No fear. Just attack—until death."
One Saibaman screeched, its back splitting slightly, revealing a row of twitching spines. Another stepped forward, its arm stretching unnaturally, bones creaking like reinforced rubber.
From behind, Vegetta watched in silence. Arms crossed. Eyes cold.
"Don't let any of them die yet, Nappa."
"Yeah, yeah," the giant grunted. "Just letting them have a little fun… and letting our guests warm up."
He looked at the Z Fighters.
"So—who's first?"
The group hesitated.
Yamcha stepped forward.
"I'll go."
Krillin looked at him sideways.
"You sure about that?"
Yamcha smiled.
"I've been training a whole year for this. Time to prove it."
Piccolo gave a short nod.
"Stay sharp. They're not simple creatures."
Yamcha rolled his shoulders, focused his ki. A faint golden aura surrounded him.
The Saibamen growled in unison, as if acknowledging the challenge.
One stepped ahead.
Its movements were fast—too fast for its hunched frame. It stopped in front of Yamcha, raising its arms like a rival calling him out.
Nappa laughed.
"Perfect! One-on-one!"
Without even looking, Vegetta activated her scouter.
"This Saibaman's base power is about the same as Raditz… but it'll rise under pressure."
Gohan turned to Piccolo.
"Mr. Piccolo… will Yamcha be able to beat it?"
Piccolo didn't answer immediately.
Yamcha raised his fists.
"Come on, monster…"
The Saibaman shrieked—
GRAAAHHHH!
—and leapt.
The fight had begun.
⸻
The first Saibaman launched itself like an organic bullet—its body moving with unnatural agility, as if gravity had lost its claim on it. Its sharp fingers reached for Yamcha's face like claws meant to tear flesh.
Yamcha didn't flinch.
"Come on, you green freak!"
The ground thundered beneath his feet as he leapt forward.
The collision was brutal.
A punch met a block. A kick grazed a cheek. Twin bursts of energy exploded midair between them. The two fighters clashed, vanished, reappeared—blurs of motion and fury dancing across the cracked plain.
BOOM! BAM! WHISH! CRACK!
Each blow echoed like thunder.
The others watched in silence.
Tien narrowed his eyes, reading every movement. Krillin clenched his teeth. Chiaotzu trembled, unsure whether to watch or look away.
And just behind them, Gohan shook. Literally.
His feet barely held him. His hands clutched his chest. His wide eyes followed the fight, both terrified and mesmerized.
"They're… so fast…" he whispered.
Piccolo didn't look at him, but his voice reached the boy—steady, sharp.
"Watch, Gohan."
"Wh-what…?"
"Observe. Learn."
Piccolo's gaze never wavered.
"This is what a real battle looks like."
Gohan swallowed hard and obeyed.
He looked back just as Yamcha spun midair, dodging an acidic burst that shot from the Saibaman's mouth.
"Ugh—gross!" Yamcha grunted, landing on a cracked boulder.
No time to rest—the Saibaman was already there again, claws slicing toward his abdomen.
Yamcha smirked.
"Not so fast, bug!"
ZAP!
He vanished. A cloud of dust hovered where he'd stood.
He reappeared behind the creature, fist glowing with energy.
BAM!
The Saibaman flew, tumbling through rocks.
"Go, Yamcha!" Krillin shouted. "You've got this!"
The scarred warrior landed, rolled, and the instant the Saibaman tried to rise, Yamcha raised his hands into his classic stance.
"Wolf Fang Fist!"
His body spun forward, faster than sight—surrounded by a cyclone of ki and dust.
He struck.
Once. Twice. Five times.
Elbows. Knees. Rising hooks. Each hit flowed into the next, a violent dance of precision and rhythm.
The Saibaman staggered backward, screeching, its body splitting, slime and black saliva spilling from its mouth. Its spines were broken, its movements erratic.
Yamcha stopped, panting.
"I'm… not done with you yet."
He closed his eyes for a second, gathering energy.
A bluish sphere formed above his hand—vibrating, growing, alive.
"Spirit Ball!"
The orb shot forward with a sharp whine.
The Saibaman dodged.
Yamcha's hand guided it through the air. The sphere curved and chased the target like a predator on instinct.
"You're not escaping!" Yamcha roared.
The Saibaman darted, leapt behind rocks, zigzagging desperately—
It didn't matter.
BOOOOM!
The explosion was clean and final. A cloud of smoke swallowed the area for a few seconds.
When the wind cleared, the Saibaman's body lay still—blackened, smoking.
Yamcha lowered his arms, breathing hard.
His boots pressed firmly into the cracked earth. A grin broke across his face.
"That's that…"
Krillin raised his arms from afar.
"You did it! That was awesome, Yamcha!"
Chiaotzu clapped timidly. Gohan blinked in awe.
Tien nodded solemnly. Even Piccolo exhaled through his nose, arms crossed.
Yamcha walked toward the body.
"Heh. That all you got? Not much of a challenge. Good warm-up, though."
He nudged the Saibaman with the tip of his boot.
"Trash."
He turned, gave a thumbs-up.
"One down!"
But then—
High above, on a rocky ridge, Vegetta tilted her head slightly, watching.
Arms crossed. Expression unreadable.
And then she spoke—quietly.
"Four…"
Nappa didn't react. Just kept smiling, like he knew what came next.
"Three…"
Krillin frowned.
"Huh?"
"Two…"
Yamcha blinked.
"Wh—what's sh—"
"One."
Vegetta closed her eyes.
"Boom."
FWWOOOOOSH!
The Saibaman's body shot upright—as if hatred itself had yanked it back to life. Its chest still smoldered, but its claws were intact.
It shrieked. High. Piercing. Its whole body began to swell—energy glowing from within.
Yamcha turned, just in time to see the green blur hurl itself at him like living shrapnel.
"What the—?!"
SKRAAAA!
The creature clung to his chest, claws digging through armor. Yamcha screamed, trying to tear it off.
"Get—OFF—ME!"
The Saibaman didn't respond. Its body shook violently, pulsing.
A blinding green light spread from its back—growing, throbbing.
Krillin's eyes widened.
"NO!"
Tien shouted,
"Yamcha, MOVE!"
Too late.
Gohan covered his ears.
Piccolo's eyes burned.
"YAMCHAAA!"
KABOOOOOOM!
An emerald explosion swallowed them both.
The blast rocked the plains. The earth quaked. A pillar of smoke speared the sky.
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Gohan opened his eyes slowly.
"Yam… cha?"
The smoke cleared.
Yamcha's body lay on the ground—on his side, motionless, clothes torn to shreds, arm outstretched, face empty.
Krillin ran to him.
"Yamcha! No… YAMCHA!"
No answer.
The fighter was gone.
His ki—vanished.
Piccolo looked down.
High above, Vegetta watched.
"Pathetic," she murmured, emotionless.
Gohan fell to his knees. He didn't understand everything—but he knew. Someone had died.
And this… was no longer training.
This was war.
⸻
The wind barely moved.
Smoke from the explosion still hung heavy over the place where Yamcha had fallen. His body lay twisted at an impossible angle—his ki gone, snuffed out.
Krillin stared, frozen.
The shouting had stopped. The air buzzed with a low electric hum—the sound of tension itself. His fists trembled. His pupils were wide. His mouth half-open.
"No…" he whispered, voice cracking. "No way…"
He knelt beside his fallen friend. A single tear slipped onto the broken ground.
"Damn it…"
Slowly, he stood. His aura began to stir—white fire swirling around him.
"Damn it all!"
No one else moved.
Tien closed his eyes in silent respect.
Chiaotzu bowed his head, muttering a tiny prayer.
Gohan just trembled, his small hands gripping the dirt.
Piccolo's eyes stayed locked on the enemies ahead, jaw tight.
Then Krillin spoke—his voice trembling, filled with fury.
"I WON'T LET THIS GO ON!"
He raised his hands.
His ki exploded.
A sphere of pure light burst into existence above his palm—vibrating, alive, chaotic. But this wasn't a simple energy blast. It was different. Divided. Controlled fury.
"TAKE THIS, YOU BASTARDS!" he screamed, voice burning.
"Scatter Shot!"
From the main sphere, dozens of smaller orbs split off—fast, gleaming, whistling through the air like a swarm of furious needles.
Each one sought a target, guided by Krillin's rage.
The Saibamen, regrouping, barely had time to react.
BOOM! BAM! KRRSSHHH!
Explosions erupted across the plain.
One Saibaman was hit dead-on—its body bursting into a cloud of green smoke.
Another tried to leap for cover—a blast caught it midair, incinerating it before it hit the ground.
Two more huddled together, shielding themselves with their claws.
Mistake.
A single orb speared between them, detonating with surgical precision.
The last one—charred, broken, barely moving—ran.
It leapt from rock to rock, trailing black slime, trembling, silent. No more shrieks. Only fear.
And then—
A shadow fell over it.
High above, descending like a goddess judging an insect—
Vegetta.
The Princess of the Saiyans floated in silence, eyes sharp as blades.
"Coward…"
Her voice was so calm it froze the blood.
The Saibaman whimpered, raising its arms in a plea.
She didn't look twice.
One finger extended.
A small orb of energy appeared, humming faintly at its tip.
"The weak," she whispered, "don't deserve a second chance."
ZAM!
A narrow beam cut the air—clean, instant.
The Saibaman was gone before it could scream.
Not even ashes remained.
Vegetta lowered her hand as if nothing had happened.
"Tch…"
Her eyes turned toward the Earthlings.
Krillin stood at the center of the battlefield, chest heaving, aura flickering. He'd spent nearly all his energy, yet his face burned—not with exhaustion, but with anger and defiance.
She noticed.
"Hmph…"
Not admiration. Just observation.
"At least they've got guts," she murmured, almost correcting a mental note.
She landed lightly on a tall rock. Nappa dropped beside her with a crash, crossing his arms.
"Ha! Not bad, Princess! That bald one's got some fight! Took out five of our pets!"
Vegetta said nothing. Her gaze stayed on the horizon, calm as glass.
"…But they're still insects."
The words came out like a verdict.
Chiaotzu trembled. Gohan hugged himself, eyes wide.
And then—
A faint vibration.
From the edge of the battlefield, one last Saibaman—charred, crippled, its body barely holding together—dragged itself across the rocks. One eye dangled loose, its skin cracked.
It had no direction. Only instinct.
It crawled toward Gohan.
The boy froze. He couldn't even scream. His body refused to move.
"Gohan, look out!" Krillin shouted.
But Piccolo was already there.
In a blur, he appeared beside the boy—his arm stretching out, his clawed hand gripping the Saibaman's skull.
"Pathetic."
He lifted it effortlessly.
"This mistake ends here."
With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it upward.
His mouth glowed. Energy charged within.
BZZZZT!
A thin green beam shot into the sky.
The Saibaman exploded into a thousand fragments before it could reach its peak.
Silence returned.
Gohan fell to his knees.
"Thank you… Mr. Piccolo…"
The Namekian didn't reply. He simply lowered his arm, expression hard as stone.
Vegetta watched him. Studied him.
"Hmm… Not bad," she said quietly. "He's precise. Cold. Like a trained soldier."
Then she sighed—bored already.
"But still… not enough."
She crossed her arms, her hair swaying in the dry wind.
"Not enough to make me fight."
Her eyes shifted toward Nappa.
"Go, Nappa."
The giant turned to her, grin spreading.
"For real? Already?"
She nodded slightly.
"They've finished off the Saibamen. Time to test them with something real."
"Ha ha ha ha…!" Nappa cracked his knuckles one by one—the sound making the earth shudder.
"Finally! I've been waiting for this!"
His boots thundered as he stomped toward the center of the field, leaving a trail of dust behind him.
"Alright, Earthlings…" he bellowed.
"WHO WANTS TO DIE FIRST?!"
His ki erupted—shaking the ground, splitting the dirt.
The real battle… had begun.
⸻
Southern Ocean – Kame House
November 3rd, 12:13 PM
The sound of the sea was no longer soothing.
No laughter. No music. Not even the gentle hiss of food frying in the pan. Only the low murmur of wind over the waves—and a heavy silence that clung to the pink walls of the tiny house like an invisible curse.
At the center of the main room, a crystal ball hovered just above a purple velvet cushion.
It glowed with an inner light, projecting hazy, dreamlike images. But these weren't dreams. They were nightmares—happening in real time.
Master Roshi's wrinkled, weathered face leaned close to the sphere. Behind his dark sunglasses, his eyes did not blink.
Beside him, Bulma covered her mouth with a trembling hand. Her eyes were red, wet with tears that refused to stop.
"No..." she whispered, voice breaking. "It can't be... not Yamcha..."
Her whole body shook. The image in the sphere showed it all—his confident smile seconds before, the Saibaman leaping from behind, and the explosion that erased him.
"No!" she screamed, collapsing to her knees.
Puar floated beside her, letting out a high-pitched cry, flailing her tiny paws in panic.
"Y-Yamcha! Yamcha, nooo! Wake up! Please, wake up!"
The scene kept replaying in her mind. Not in the crystal ball—but in memory. Puar had been his shadow, his friend, his confidant. To see him like this, lifeless and still... was to watch a part of herself die.
"H-he had plans," she sobbed. "He wanted to ask Bulma to try again... He wanted to change..."
Oolong stood by the wall, pale as chalk. Arms crossed—but shaking. He tried to look tough, but the sweat on his forehead betrayed him.
"T-this is too much…" he muttered, voice hoarse.
"Those monsters! What kind of 'warriors' are they? They came here just to kill for fun!"
No one answered.
The only one who remained calm—if that word even applied—was Fortuneteller Baba, Roshi's sister, floating on her platform and holding the crystal ball steady with both hands. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth drawn into a grim line.
"The fight is brutal…" she said softly. "But what worries me isn't what they've done… it's what they haven't done yet."
Roshi nodded slowly.
"I know…"
His voice was different—deeper, stripped of the usual playfulness. It sounded heavy, serious… like that of a true master.
"Nappa's a demon in the body of a brute. You can see it—he enjoys the pain he causes. And yes… he's dangerous."
He paused, watching the enormous Saiyan swagger across the battlefield, mocking the Z Fighters with his monstrous grin.
"But her…" Roshi continued.
Vegetta.
The image in the crystal ball showed her standing tall and motionless, floating above a rock like a queen overlooking her domain.
She didn't shout.
She didn't move more than necessary.
She didn't even sweat.
And yet, her presence alone froze everyone's blood.
Roshi studied her carefully.
Her hair rose like a dark crown, falling down her back like a disciplined flame. Her face—sharp, flawless—was carved like that of a goddess who had forgotten mercy. And her eyes…
"That look…" Roshi murmured to himself. "It's the look of someone who's seen death so many times… she no longer considers it relevant."
Bulma sobbed, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
"B-but… she's just a woman! There has to be a way—"
Oolong shot her a nervous glance.
"And you're 'just a woman,' huh?" he blurted, sarcasm hiding his fear.
Bulma glared at him, ready to snap, but Roshi's tone cut through the air like a blade.
"Don't underestimate that Saiyan."
He crossed his arms. His face—harder than anyone had ever seen it.
"I've trained longer than most people can imagine. I've seen true prodigies. And at my age, I can tell when something is truly dangerous."
He pointed toward the sphere.
"She doesn't move because she doesn't need to. She doesn't speak because no one's worth speaking to.
That big one—Nappa—he could wipe out a city…"
He leaned closer to the crystal ball.
"…but her? She could erase a continent without breaking a sweat."
Bulma fell silent. Still crying—but now, her tears came with a chill that crawled down her spine.
Puar trembled, hugging her tail.
"B-but… Goku's coming back, right?"
Baba spoke, her gaze still fixed on the sphere.
"Yes. He's on his way."
"But will it be enough?" Oolong asked, voice shaking.
Roshi didn't answer right away.
When he did, it was the most honest thing he'd ever said.
"I don't know."
The room fell completely silent.
The old master looked at Vegetta again—not as the lecherous old man who once ogled women, but as a warrior measuring another.
Yes, she was beautiful—beyond human beauty. Her body wasn't just strong; it was engineered. The perfection of Saiyan genetics made flesh.
"In another time… in other circumstances…" Roshi thought with quiet shame, "I might have called her a goddess… or one of my comic-book heroines…"
But not now.
"…That woman," he said aloud, "is the most dangerous being we've ever faced."
The crystal flickered briefly—showing a glimpse of Goku running along the Snake Way. A tunnel of gold stretching into infinity.
"I just hope…" Roshi whispered, eyes closing for a moment. "That Goku's training was enough."
He opened his eyes slowly.
"Because if it wasn't…"
He turned back to the sphere.
"…it won't be the big one who destroys the world."
His voice fell to a whisper.
"It'll be her."
⸻
Other World – Snake Way
November 3rd, 12:34 PM (Earth Time, Approx.)
A golden horizon stretched endlessly in every direction.
No sky. No ground. Only an infinite road winding through the void—its curved tiles twisting like the spine of some ancient dragon.
And on that path, running without rest, was Son Goku.
His feet struck the tiles at incredible speed. His black, spiked hair whipped with every stride, his orange gi billowing behind him like a battle flag. Sweat streamed down his face, but his eyes stayed forward—sharp, focused, unblinking.
His breathing was deep. Rhythmic.
He couldn't stop.
"Haaa… haaa!" he exhaled, leaping over a broken gap in the road. "Not much left… not much left!"
He'd lost track of the turns. The stretches. The time. But from the glow of the golden light around him, he could guess—
"Halfway there…" he panted. "Yeah… almost halfway!"
The effort was enormous. The Snake Way was longer than any mortal mind could comprehend. But Goku was no ordinary human. Not anymore.
Not after his training with King Kai.
His body—stronger than ever.
His spirit—tempered.
His ki—expanded beyond limits.
And yet…
his heart was uneasy.
"Krillin… Yamcha… Tien… Piccolo…" he muttered between breaths. "Please… hold on."
He pushed harder.
"And Gohan…" His voice softened—warmer, fragile.
The name of his son hurt—not from weakness, but from love.
Gohan. His little boy.
The child he was only beginning to know. The one he'd barely held outside of training. And now… he'd left him behind in a world where monsters walked with human faces.
He remembered Chi-Chi's last words to him. Her voice echoed through his mind, clearer than the air he breathed:
"Protect him, but don't hold him back. Let him discover the world his own way."
"I will, Chi-Chi…" he whispered, swallowing hard. "I promise… I won't let anything happen to him. Not to him… not to the Earth."
His legs didn't slow. His ki pulsed brighter. Each step was a heartbeat driving that promise closer to the world of the living.
But through the flashes of his friends fighting, of Gohan struggling to survive… another presence emerged in his mind.
A different kind of energy.
Cold. Sharp. Perfect.
The Princess.
Goku frowned slightly.
He remembered King Kai's words, days earlier, when he first learned about the Saiyans.
"The Princess of the Saiyans," King Kai had said. "Trained from childhood as heir to the throne. Her power surpassed most adult warriors by the time she was six."
From that moment, something had stirred in him.
Curiosity.
Restlessness.
An instinct older than words.
"She…" he murmured through gritted teeth. "I want to meet her."
Not in a romantic way—Goku didn't think like that. No.
He wanted to feel her power. Her spirit. Her strength.
Until now, his greatest rival had been Piccolo. Before that, Tien, Nam, even Jackie Chun. But Vegetta…
She was something else.
Not a rival—
a challenge.
Not an enemy—
a test.
Not a threat—
an answer.
"If she's as strong as King Kai says…" he muttered, a grin creeping across his face, "then this… is gonna be amazing."
His ki flared unconsciously. White light surrounded him. His speed doubled.
"HAAAAAAAH!"
The Snake Way trembled beneath his feet. Sparks flickered in his wake. Even the gods of the Other World might have paused to watch.
And in his mind, two images intertwined—
Gohan's innocent smile.
And Vegetta's eyes—cold fire.
Life and death.
Duty and desire.
Promise and battle.
"I'm almost there… just a few more hours!"
And then—
He felt it.
A shiver pierced his chest like an invisible blade.
A familiar energy—dense, sharp, unbearably proud.
"Huh…?" Goku slowed for half a heartbeat. "That was…"
He closed his eyes. Focused.
Yes. He could feel it. Across that impossible distance—from the realm of the dead to the living—his revived ki was resonating with the energy flaring from Earth.
A battle was happening.
One ki burned like wild fire—Nappa.
But the other…
The other was like ice that refused to melt.
Precise. Elegant. Perfect.
"Vegetta…" he whispered.
And without knowing why—he smiled.
"I hope you're waiting for me."
He clenched his fists.
"Because I'm coming straight for you."
The Snake Way lit up around him with renewed brilliance, as if the universe itself acknowledged it:
the defender of Earth was returning.
And this time, he wasn't just coming back to save the world.
He was coming back—
For his son.
For his promise.
And for the fight.