Dragon Ball Z: The Beast Within - CH72 (Patreon)

Bardock POV

I leaned back against the cold metal wall, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded as I watched the training yard from a distance.

Nothing interesting.

Just a bunch of low-class warriors going through the motions. Punch, kick, shout, repeat. Same thing every day.

Boring.

And honestly?

I didn’t mind it.

Boring meant no surprises. No sudden orders to wipe out a planet. No unexpected turn of events. No weird visions messing with my head at the worst possible time, just me and the infinite dirt.

Just me and the quiet.

Or as quiet as Planet Vegeta ever got.

It had been five months since the new King left.

Five months since that kid—Escarot—walked out like he owned the place.

Which, I guess, he did.

I exhaled slowly, tilting my head back against the wall.

Still didn’t sit right.

A cub.

A damn cub took down King Vegeta like it was nothing.

I’d seen strong Saiyans before. Fought alongside them. Fought against them.

But that?

That was something else.

And now I was here.

Guard duty.

I snorted lightly.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” I muttered under my breath.

“See what day?” Tora asked from a few feet away, arms crossed as he leaned against a nearby pillar.

I glanced at him.

“The day I get told to stay home and babysit.”

He barked a short laugh.

“Babysitting the planet, you mean.”

“And a baby,” I added flatly.

Tora smirked. “Oh yeah. The monster kid.”

Broly. If Escarot was a monster, Broly was a different breed of one.

I shifted slightly, pushing off the wall and standing upright.

“…He’s not normal.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Tora replied. “Last I heard, his power spiked again yesterday.”

“Yeah,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Maybe he’s a mutant, all species have them, maybe we have them as well?”

Tora chuckled.

“How does it feel competing with a baby?”

I gave him a look.

“Very funny.”

“He could probably beat your ass, I would pay to see that.”

“…I would to.”

That was the worst part. A bit funny too.

The kid was still in diapers.

Still barely able to stand without wobbling.

And his power level?

Already brushing past mine when stable, and when spiking… that was another story.

If that kid ever lost control…

I didn’t finish that thought.

Didn’t need to.

Tora must’ve noticed the shift in my expression, because his smirk faded slightly.

“…Yeah,” he said. “That one’s gonna be trouble, but hey, not our problem, that’s for the King to figure out.”

“No kidding.”

I exhaled, rolling my shoulders slightly.

“At least it’s quiet.”

Tora snorted.

“You just jinxed it.”

“Probably.”

I glanced up toward the palace.

Another problem sitting there.

Prince Vegeta, or… not a prince anymore.

I frowned slightly.

That was still weird to think about.

The kid had been born into royalty.

Spent what—months?—as a prince before his father got killed.

Shortest royal run in history.

Did that even count?

I scratched my jaw.

“…Wonder how that’s gonna turn out.”

Tora shrugged.

“Not sure, but maybe the King will spare him, he doesn’t look overly cruel, if anything he looks like the opposite of King Vegeta.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “That tracks.”

Oh well, this wasn't really my problem, I was a soldier, I wasn't paid to question shit, just do my job.

At least I got something out of all this downtime.

More time with Gine.

More time with Raditz.

I smirked faintly.

Kid needed it.

Badly.

He had potential, sure—but he was soft around the edges. Hesitated too much. He was scared all the time, he even had a nickname already, Raditz the Coward.

Not what you wanted in a fight.

I’d started putting him through proper training.

Nothing crazy.

Just enough to toughen him up.

He complained.

A lot.

But he’d get there.

Eventually.

“…You’re spacing out again,” Tora said.

I blinked, refocusing.

“Yeah.”

“Still having those… things?” he asked carefully.

I didn’t answer right away.

Visions.

Flashes.

That burning planet.

That tyrant laughing.

That warrior—

I clenched my jaw slightly.

“…Sometimes.”

Tora didn’t push.

Good.

Didn’t feel like explaining something I barely understood myself.

Before either of us could say anything else—

A distant explosion echoed across the area.

Both of us snapped our heads in the same direction.

“…Healing wing,” Tora said.

“Yeah.”

I pushed off the wall immediately.

“I’ll check it out.”

“Want backup?” he called after me.

“Nah, I need the workout, sitting on my tail is going to make me fat, and that role in our team is already filled you know.”

I was already moving.

The corridors blurred slightly as I picked up speed, boots hitting the ground in steady, controlled strides.

Another explosion echoed—closer this time.

Not good.

The healing wing wasn’t exactly a place where explosions were supposed to happen.

I slowed slightly as I approached, senses sharpening as my scouter beeped sharply.

I glanced at the reading.

19,098.

My eyes narrowed.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I stepped into the room.

And there she was.

The former Queen of all Saiyans, Kayle.

Or what was left of her.

She stood in the middle of the wrecked chamber, one of the healing pods shattered behind her, glass and fluid scattered across the floor.

She wasn't fully healed.

Not even close.

Bruises.

They had put her to heal at the slowest setting to ensure the King would have time to think what to do with her, which explained her condition.

But even injured… with that power, she would prove to a challenge.

Her eyes locked onto mine immediately.

I exhaled slowly, stepping forward just enough to make my presence clear.

“…You shouldn’t be up, you are under house arrest.”

She didn’t respond.

Didn’t need to.

That look said everything.

“I’m gonna need you to stand down,” I added.

Her lip curled slightly.

“Stand down?”

Her voice was sharp.

Controlled.

Barely.

“You think I’ve spent months in that… tank, waiting for the perfect moment to strike,” she spat the word, “just to obey orders from a low-class soldier?”

I didn’t react.

Didn’t take the bait.

“Not orders,” I said. “Just common sense.”

Her eyes narrowed further.

“I am leaving this planet.”

There it was.

Straight to the point.

“And I’m taking my son with me.”

I shook my head once.

“…Can’t let you do that.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“You don’t have a choice.”

I met her gaze evenly.

“Actually, I do.”

Silence stretched between us for a moment.

“You think you can stop me?” she asked.

“…No,” I said honestly.

Her brow twitched slightly.

Not expecting that.

“But I don’t need to beat you,” I continued. “Just need to slow you down.”

Her eyes sharpened.

“And then what?”

I shrugged slightly.

“Then the rest of the planet gets involved.”

That wasn’t a threat.

Just a fact.

And she knew it.

Even injured, even if her encounter with Escarot had made her stronger—she couldn’t fight the entire planet.

Not like this.

Not yet.

Her jaw tightened.

For a moment, I thought she might actually reconsider.

Then she smiled.

And it wasn’t a pleasant smile.

“You misunderstand something, little worm. I am the Queen of all Saiyans, and in blood you will bow!”

Kayle moved.

A blur of motion too fast for the eye to track, her fist already halfway through its arc before my subconscious even kicked my arms into guard position.

Red lightning.

Pain spiked through my jaw. I skidded backward, boots gouging the tile, slamming through a caution sign and half-destroyed console before I caught myself.

Her follow-up landed on my ribs. Same hand, same motionless face, as if she didn’t even need to think about it.

I rolled with the impact, forced a deep breath, then shot a left hook of my own, right at the last second, using her own aggression against her.

Her head snapped to the side, blood spraying, but there was no stagger, no stumble, just a twist of her lips and ire in her gaze.

Her arm swept up fast, caught mine by the wrist, and squeezed.

Throwing myself back, I kicked her kneecaps, hard, and she let me go—more in surprise than pain.

Wasting no time, I dropped low, rolled past her legs, before blasting the area behind me at full charge. The floor exploded.

She was on me before the smoke cleared, foot to my chest, sending me up through the story above with a sound like a battering ram through stone.

I landed sprawled on the next floor, ribs screaming, vision blurry. I tasted blood. She stalked out of the hole after me.

“You are not worth my time,” Kayle said. She almost sounded disappointed.

But she came anyway. How fucking nice of her.

I dragged myself upright, spat. “Glad to be a disappointment.”

I wiped blood off my chin with the back of my hand. I was grinning, even though my torso felt like it had been caved out. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe just the old idiot in my bones that liked a fight no matter how suicidal, I didn’t care, I was having fun.

“This is not going to end as you think it will,” I chuckled.

“And how do you think it will end, insect?”

I tapped my scouter, the device beeping as it picked up multiple power signatures converging on our location. My split lip stretched into a bloody grin as I spat a tooth onto the cracked floor between us. “Hear that?” I gestured to the scouter. “That’s the sound of your odds dropping.” I glanced at my wrist as if checking a watch, swaying slightly to keep my weight off my shattered ribs. “Just need to dance with you a little longer, Your Highness. Tick... tock...”

Kayle POV

The taste of blood lingered on my tongue.

Not entirely unpleasant. It has been a while since I have been in a fight.

I stood amidst the wreckage, chest rising and falling slower than it should have, slower than I allowed it to appear, I still needed to heal, I was having troubles dealing with this pest, a fly I should be able to squash without an effort.

My body still ached in places I had never felt any pain, each one remembering the way they had been shattered and rearranged.

That… creature had done quite the number on me.

My fingers curled slightly at the memory.

Not fear.

Never fear.

Only… resentment.

My gaze remained fixed on Bardock.

This low-class worm was getting in my way.

Bruised. Bloodied. Barely standing.

And yet—

“So what will it be, Queen of nothing?”

How irritating.

He was stalling.

That much was obvious.

I let the silence stretch for a brief moment, watching him with the same detached scrutiny one would grant an insect that refused to die.

As much as I hated to admit it…

He was right.

The longer I remained here the lower my chances of success were.

As injured as I was right now… things were complicated..

Every strike took more than it should have. I had barely started beating him, and I was already getting tired.

The healing process had been… insufficient.

Deliberately so.

That wretched child had ensured it.

A calculated decision.

He had left me alive, but not whole.

Functional, but diminished.

Enough to survive.

Not enough to reclaim what was mine.

Yet.

My jaw tightened slightly.

I could kill Bardock.

Eventually.

There was no doubt in that.

But not quickly.

And not cleanly.

He would drag it out, as he was doing now, forcing me to expend energy I could not afford to waste right now. And once the others arrived—and they would—the situation would shift.

I inhaled slowly, steadying my breath, allowing my mind to move past the immediate irritation and toward what actually mattered.

My son.

My Vegeta.

The only thing of value left on this forsaken rock.

Nappa would have retrieved him by now.

The ship would be prepared.

The route plotted.

Everything arranged as it should be. All that was left, was me leaving before I couldn’t.

I gritted my teeth. This plan hurt my pride, but not all wars were won as we would wish.

This was not a defeat.

This was a postponement.

A strategic withdrawal.

I would leave.

Regain my strength.

And when I returned—

This planet would burn.

And every single Saiyan who had bent the knee to that usurper would learn what it meant to betray their Queen and Prince.

My gaze shifted back to Bardock.

Still smirking through blood and broken teeth, tapping that ridiculous device as if it gave him leverage.

“Tick… tock…”

The audacity.

For a brief moment, I considered silencing him permanently.

Driving my hand through his throat.

Ending that smug expression where he stood.

It would be satisfying.

Briefly.

But satisfaction was a luxury.

And I had no time for luxuries.

I straightened slightly, ignoring the pull in my side, the subtle protest of a body not yet fully restored.

Then, slowly—deliberately—I smiled.

“Consider yourself lucky, Bardock,” I said, my voice calm, composed, entirely at odds with the destruction around us. “I have more important matters to attend to.”