Going Native: Rewritten: Homecoming 4.3 (ch. 20) (Patreon)

I really didn’t know how to handle the information that the Saiyan race had apparently found Earth. That they had attacked Earth. And now it was apparently like some kind of vacation resort that was a reward for good behavior -- the good behavior in question being the conquest of planets, the enslavement or genocide of the native population, and then kicking up the profits to King Vegeta. 

Earth wasn’t something that crossed my mind often. While I generally hoped that my former home planet was doing alright, my thoughts never lingered. Part of that was because it wasn’t really my Earth. It was some DC Earth where ‘diplomatic immunity’ made murder, rape, and acts of terror non-prosecutable. Where people with superpowers wearing their underwear on the wrong side of their pants flew around to perpetually save the day from whatever local/global/universal threat had cropped up that day. 

It wasn’t my Earth. It was ‘a’ Earth. 

Even if I did feel that sense of attachment, I liked being a Saiyan. I liked the training, the fights, the excitement… I liked flying across the galaxy, visiting alien planets, and usually fighting someone there. I liked bouncing from tournament to tournament, encountering all kinds of people who came in very different shapes and sizes. The life that I had now was the kind of life that I could only dream of as a human. 

So, I was content to leave Earth in the rearview mirror. I could always visit it, I figured. DC Earth was constantly being invaded by aliens, so they wouldn’t notice me one bit, I had thought. I could slip in and play human -- afterall, a human with a monkey tail was hardly the weirdest thing DC Humanity had seen. They probably wouldn’t even give me a second look. 

At least, that had been my assumption. 

No. Instead, Earth had been turned into a spa resort for Saiyans, just with punching and junk food. The worst part was that I still had absolutely no idea where Earth was beyond a best guess in the ballpark of thousands of lightyears. Frankly, it was almost enough to make me regret refusing the title of prince. 

Almost. 

Vegeta had been very smug about my obvious disappointment, but that soon faded when he saw I wasn’t going to blow over and crawl back to King Vegeta for his approval. After that, Vegeta made himself scarce for a bit -- he remained on the planet, but I got the feeling that he was avoiding me. I wasn’t sure on the reason why, but when in doubt, blame Frieza. Or King Vegeta, in this case. 

I had plenty of things to fill my time, I soon discovered. The first couple of days was spent teaching the others how to control their Oozaru transformation. I took them to Vegeta III -- and I found not only was there a Vegeta II, but a Vegeta IV and V. There were five planets in the solar system and every single one of them was named Vegeta. On Vegeta III, I taught Caulifla first, then we both taught Cabba and Raditz. 

That ate up a few days, but the retrofitting of the Rebel Moon was going to take at least a month. Which it needed as Okarot and Ginge had gotten back to me about former tribe members who were interested in signing up with me. 

The answer was a lot more than I’d expected. A lot more. 

“A million warriors!? How am I going to provide for a million people?” I asked myself, looking at my tablet, sitting at Gine's dinner table with a sense of dawning horror. Vegeta had been right. I really hadn't understood what I set in motion with my tribe.

When I created it, we had a few hundred members and we controlled the edge of the forest. It was territory that stretched for hundreds of miles, sure, but the Forest was as big if not bigger than the Amazon Rainforest back on Earth. I hadn't been able to sense it then, but in the Forest alone, there were ten of thousands of Saiyans dwelling within. 

Before my tribe put an end to the stupidest version of Darwinism that ever existed, like eighty percent of the children that were dumped into the Wilds died there. It was no wonder King Vegeta had to up the cap on graduating from the Wilds, and that only brought it back down to the previous graduation rate. But that was a stopgap measure that wouldn't last forever as my tribe was growing.

The tribe, when I left it, had a few hundred members. Now it had hundreds of thousands. Planet Vegeta was roughly three times the size of Earth, and my tribe was conquering the petty kingdoms one after another. Not only adding to their numbers by taking in established warriors, but preventing the senseless deaths of the children that were dropped in the Wastes by batches. 

In the roughly six years since I left Planet Vegeta, about a hundred and twenty thousand warriors had graduated, so about seventeen thousand warriors a year. A significant portion of them had come from my tribe. Throughout the Saiyan Empire, there were fifteen nursery worlds that were terraformed and populated with apex predators to mimic the environment of Planet Vegeta -- on those nursery worlds, their graduation rate was closer to two thousand a year. 

Which explained King Vegeta’s reaction. As far as the Saiyan race was concerned, it had just picked up an additional eight nursery worlds. And that was in addition to the children who were born strong enough to be assigned a class from birth. 

More than that, those who came from my tribe were getting stronger faster. In a handful of years, those of the generation I left were already closing in on Mid-Class strength. That was a growing debate in itself across Saiyan society because it wasn’t used to gaining so many potential members to the Class in such a short time. In the Classes above, there were whispers that the classification for Mid-Class should be raised higher, while the weaker Mid-Class warriors feared being bumped down to Low-Class. 

Meanwhile, the Support-Class wasn't getting enough members to replace the ones they were losing because Saiyans never read the evil overlord rulebook and frequently murdered the Support-Class for failures to produce miracles. 

The point was, because of the population boom from the Saiyans suddenly gained the equivalent of an extra eight nursery planets adding to their population, the general uncertainty of the Class system, and our meteoric rise to the High-Class… a lot of people were interested in signing up for whatever I had planned. Only a fraction of them had come from my Tribe, most were Low-Class warriors who wanted my secrets on how to grow stronger, or Mid-Class warriors who saw me as an easy mealticket and a source of good fights. 

“You don't, stupid,” Raditz said from the couch, laying back with what looked a lot like a Gameboy in his hands. “There's no way we could fit that many people onto the Rebel Moon. We'd need like ten more ships just to house ‘em all. Accept the useful ones and tell the rest to grab their tails.” 

“I didn't even know there were a million Saiyans,” I admitted, feeling a bit stressed. And, to my immense surprise, I learned that there were fifteen billion Saiyans alive in the galaxy, or that was the best guess. The number was in constant fluctuation because of the constant warfare. Fifteen billion honestly wasn't a lot, all things considered. I had visited planets that boasted higher populations. But, I had figured that there was at most… if someone had told me that there were fifteen million Saiyans, I would have figured that guess would be too high. 

The population breakdown was pretty interesting. Of those fifteen billion, there were roughly two billion were Support-Class. Five hundred million were Mid-Class. A hundred thousand were High-Class, while there were ten members of the Elite-Class. The remaining twelve billion, four hundred thousand, ninety-nine million, eight hundred and ninety-nine thousand, and ninety-nine hundred belonged to the Low-Class. 

“Well, there are. Now, don't accept the deadweight, Tarble. At least not all at once,” Raditz continued, seemingly understanding who he was talking to. “We can't afford it with the restrictions you're placing on us. Unless you've changed your mind…?” 

“I'm not looking to fight for Frieza's bottom line,” I steadfast refused. 

“It's not like the Reach are good guys or anything. I don't even think they have real citizens. Just aliens that they like enough to brainwash. The rest they work to extinction,” Raditz said, trying to get me to warm up to the idea. 

The news reached us years late because of our time on Namek, but that remark from the Kryptonians to Jeice about the war against the Reach had manifested. 

Roughly two years ago, the Planetary Trade Organization had declared war on the Reach Empire. While war was almost constant across the galaxy, it wasn't that often you saw two such massive juggernauts fighting like they were. It was a war on a completely different scale, even from what I had known of. Empires in space were a dime a dozen -- a couple dozen planets, a hundred star systems. 

When those empires went to war, a planet or three would be exchanged. Or all, if the species in question were aggressive, like the Saiyan race. Millions would die, entire planets could be devastated -- the scale of the war would be as if you combined every single major war ever waged on Earth and multiplied it by ten. That alone was insane to think about. 

But that was nothing compared to the war between the Reach and PTO. 

There were battles across millions of planets happening at this very moment. And on each of those planets, there were armies of millions, if not billions, fighting to the last man. Battles that made World War I and II look like jokes were considered minor skirmishes. The war was just on a completely different scale beyond my ability to comprehend. 

And I had been completely oblivious to it until I started scooping out contracts to see that the PTO and Reach were putting out bounties and contracts on high priority targets. Which could just as easily be people as it would be industries or planets. 

I wanted less than nothing to do with it. That whole mess could stay all the way away from me, thank you very much. 

“Maybe, but it still helps Frieza, which makes it an automatic no from me,” I said, knowing that I was the odd one out. As far as the rest of the Saiyan mercenaries were concerned, they had just been offered a seat at an all you could eat buffet. Frieza had hired out entire armies of Saiyans, paying top dollar for other war materials, which also fed into why there was a shortage of transportation. 

I knew I couldn't tell the truth. The others wouldn't understand why I didn't want the kids that would be serving under me to participate in mass scale war. 

“Plus, it frees up some of the competition for contracts. We'll probably make more not participating in the Reach-PTO war,” I added, knowing just how to get Raditz to stop asking questions. 

Just as I expected, he shrugged his shoulders. “If you say so. Still, even with all the contracts, it still won't be enough to support a million Saiyans.” 

He was right there. 

As High-Class Saiyans, we had our pick of contracts in general. A lot of them I had no interest in accepting, but there were plenty of options. Bounty Hunting was lucrative. Kori had managed to get us a pretty sweet deal for refueling, repairs, and supplies in the Vega System. I had sent Jaco a message a week ago about possibly tapping us into the Galactic Patrol database to aid with the bounty hunting and to inform us of any emergencies, with the hope that it would give us enough goodwill to grant us ports of call if we needed around the galaxy. 

But it wouldn’t be enough. Not even close. 

“Ten thousand,” I muttered under my breath, knowing that was the magic number. That was the most we could sustain at our current level. The biggest issues were space and food production, and they fed into each other. The more crew we brought on, the more space we needed to both house them and feed them. With the Rebel Moon’s current retrofit, all of the empty space was being converted into either living quarters or hydroponic gardens, fish farms, and various amenities to prevent thousands of Saiayns going stir crazy. 

Bardock had bitten and purchased the Red Sun technique from me, which freed up a lot of money for the retrofit. Though, he had refused to join the mercenary business. Probably because he figured out that the Red Sun was based on the Power Ball and he was being salty. I think he’d come around. Eventually. 

But, if I wanted to expand our numbers, then I’d eventually need the funds to expand the Rebel Moon. Or start building new ships entirely. Which was another, if smaller, issue -- money. 

As we continued to sail through the galaxy, we would eventually find upgrades for the ship that I would want to implement. Such as stronger gravity chambers or upgrades to the FTL drives. Not to mention massive repairs if we ever got in a ship battle, and the Rebel Moon took some hard knocks. Doing the contracts, bounties, and tournaments would bring in a fair bit of income, but it wasn’t consistent. Some jobs would take time to complete, others between the split between those that did the mission, the kick up to the company fund would be pretty slim. 

Which had me looking at other opportunities. In the spam folder, I had some offers to become a corporate sell out -- sponsorships that’d give me discounts on equipment, or regular payouts. The contracts were literal garbage, but I just might be getting desperate enough to slap a giant ad for Slurm Cola on the Rebel Moon if it helped our finances enough. 

“You’re overthinking it,” Raditz said, still playing the gameboy. “We need some Support-Class Saiyans, absolutely. Technicians, for the most part. Maybe some nurseries when people start having kids and stuff. The rest? Pick the strongest of our former tribe members -- with training, and your magical stuff, they’ll be High-Class in no time. We give them their own ships and send them off so we aren’t competing for contracts, and there you go. A sustainable business model.”

I mean, he was right, but… “Where did you even learn those words at?”

“I read them in a book on the trip over since the gravity chamber was busted,” Raditz admitted. That got a snort of amusement from me, but he gave me something else to think about. We would need Support-Class members, true. But kids weren't something that I had considered. 

Kids like Okarot were… well, kids in my eyes, but soon enough, they’d hit their first growth spurt. Which meant they would gain the bodies of teenagers. I’m not sure if Saiyans went through puberty, but I added it to my checklist of things to look into because… yeah, babies were going to be a concern. 

“You’re right,” I admitted to him, a sigh in my voice as I rubbed my temples to stave off an incoming headache. “I know you are. I just really wanted to remove them from King Vegeta’s crosshairs.” I’m not sure King Vegeta suspected how much I cared about the tribe -- they were my responsibility, in the end. I had bitten off way more than I could chew, I was in way over my head in regards to them, but I wasn’t willing to just abandon them. Especially not when they had such unshakable faith in me. 

I was hoping that King Vegeta would think I only cared about those I had met during my time in the Wilds, leaving the rest of my former tribe members in the clear. And if those members were with me, then I didn’t have to worry about them being targeted for reprisals because I hurt King Vegeta’s ego. 

“I’m aware,” Radtiz replied, tilting his head back to look at me. “But if you want to do this, then you need to do it right. Build things up. If you do too much all at once, it’s going to collapse on itself, and as bad as you feel now… you’d feel a lot worse then.” 

I knew that. I just really didn’t like the idea of kids graduating from the Wilds, becoming Warriors, then getting drafted to start fighting in wars for the Saiyan Empire. Or worse, get sent to that meat grinder called the Reach-PTO war. I knew I couldn’t save everyone. That was impossible. But, it still pricked at me that ten thousand was all that I could manage at this point. 

Still, the reality of the situation was what it was.

So I would do what I could and that would have to be enough. 

…

“Do we have to go? This seems dumb. And boring,” Caulifla groused, crossing her arms as she followed behind me as we walked to Castle Vegeta. Apparently it was a tradition or something. It seemed needlessly petty, but I guess that was one of the perks of being royalty. 

“You’re telling me,” I replied, just as annoyed as she was, even if it was for very different reasons. I could sense King Vegeta’s overwhelming presence. However, I could sense a handful of other especially powerful presences within Castle Vegeta. In the odd month it had been since we arrived on the planet, I had hoped that we would be able to leave without having to speak to him again. The Rebel Moon’s retrofit was almost complete, as was the recruitment of the ten thousand Saiyans, as many traveled back to Planet Vegeta. 

“Are you sure that the invitation extended to us, Friend Tarble?” Kori asked, gesturing to herself and Dende. She wore an uncertain expression on her face, eyeing the white castle that stood at the edge of a long cliff with more wariness than excitement. 

Neither of them had said it, but I strongly suspected that they understood that we weren’t a good indication of what Saiyans were generally like. 

“Vegeta said to bring my team,” I replied, just as uncertain as them. 

Cabba glanced at me from the corner of his eye, “Are you sure you should be calling the Prince by his first name?” He asked, and I could hear the question he really wanted to ask in his voice. ‘Why was Vegeta treating you so strangely?’ He didn’t ask, and I knew that he wouldn’t. But he had noticed. 

“Eh, he doesn’t mind. Much. I wouldn’t recommend you do it, though. He might actually kill you guys if you do,” I replied, knowing that I should tell them but now really didn’t seem like the time. 

Caulifla snorted, “As if. I’d Kaioken him into the ground.” She probably would. And I was curious if that’s why there were so many powerful others joining him in the throne room for this meeting. Had he heard about the Kaioken and realized that I had a chance of killing him? A small one, sure, but still a chance?

“Please don’t assault the royal family. At least until we’re sure we’d win that fight,” I sighed, making Caulifla grin. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

The moment of levity faded as we approached the large double doors, and two Saiyan servants pushed them open for us. The others drank in the sights as we strode through the hallways, marveling at the piles of treasure and the trophies taken. I was predisposed to not caring for it, but I guess it was impressive, if extremely gaudy. 

The servants led us to the throne room, and once more, I was welcomed inside. 

King Vegeta’s expression betrayed nothing as he lounged in his throne, his gaze boring into mine. Vegeta was standing next to his father, as he usually was, but there was someone else in the throne next to him. I knew her by sight, but only because I had familiarized myself with the Elite-Class. 

Queen Teach. My mother. 

I saw the resemblance almost immediately, but that could just be because I was looking for it. If Vegeta was a carbon copy of King Vegeta, then I favored our mother. A strong jaw with a stubborn chin, high cheekbones, dark eyes with a lock of dark hair falling near them while the rest were smoothed back in a mane of spikes. 

There was amusement and interest dancing in her dark eyes as she watched us approach, a faint smile curling at her lips as she leaned her head on one hand. 

There was a part of me that was curious. A part of me that wanted to know if my mother was as much of a shit as my father. But, she wasn’t the only concern in the room. Quite a few of them were flanking the path up to the thrones. They were the Elite-Class, I realized. And so did Caulifla. 

“Resno?” I heard her whisper under her breath, locking eyes with one of the Saiyans that was furthest from the throne but closest to us. He was on the stocky side, with long hair that was pulled back, and a short pointed beard that covered his chin. His gaze went to Caulifa, but his eyes betrayed nothing. 

I heard her suck in a sharp breath, taking that as rejection, but she handled it far better than I expected. She didn’t start a fight and instead looked away from him. 

Meanwhile, I scoped out the Elite-Class. I knew their names and their reported power level, because those were posted for bragging rights, but it was nice to put faces to the names.

The entirety of the Elite-Class was present. Two of them directly across from me with the remaining eight flanking the carpet leading to them. From strongest to weakest, the order was:

King Vegeta - 150,000,00

Teach  - 65,000,000

Fennle - 60,000,000

Rukara - 57,000,000

Trevax - 53,000,000

Zarnok - 45,000,000

Peparo - 38,000,000

Resno - 25,000,000

Karnix - 23,500,000

Parsley - 23,000,000

It put some things in perspective; that was for sure. Resno was the eighth strongest of the Elite-Class overall, with tenth place being some guy named Parsley with a power level of twenty-three million. So, at three and a half million, I was about six times removed from becoming Elite-Class. That was neat. 

However, they weren’t the only powerful presences that I sensed. Five others. But their presences were… weird. They were strong, but fuzzy. Like static, almost? 

“Tarble. You brought aliens to my throne room,” King Vegeta uttered the words like a death sentence, and I made sure to step forward so that the others were behind me. 

“Vegeta said to bring my team-” I was cut off by a blood red ki blast that raced for me, but I batted it away with a hand and blasted out the wall to the throne room. “That was rude,” I remarked idly, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. His expression didn’t so much as twitch at the sunlight suddenly streaming into the throne room. The rest of the Elite-Class, however, wore expressions of shock. 

“As is referring to my son and heir so casually,” King Vegeta replied. Vegeta shifted next to his father, a complicated expression flicking across his face before he grimaced. He offered a subtle shake of his head to me, and I took that as the warning it was. King Vegeta wasn’t going to be taking any lip from me, it would seem. Not today, at least. I guess because we had an audience. “Well, it matters not, I suppose.”

He leaned back into his throne and began to speak loudly, addressing everyone in the throne room. “Six years ago, I began an experiment. A test to bolster the might of our people, and increase our numbers.”

How shameless. He’s straight up stealing credit, huh? 

“However, I did not wish to diminish our warrior’s blood by allowing unworthy weakness so I decided on a contest. Before you, these children are of around five years of age. This was their power levels when they were cast into the Wilds… and these are their power levels now.” I had no idea what he was talking about until I realized everyone was looking above my head, and I saw a hologram displaying our power levels. 

The shock intensified on the Elite-Class’ faces. I knew why. I didn’t need to look up to know what the numbers said. 

Tarble

Age .1: 3,300 | Age 6: 3,500,000

Caulifla 

Age 3: 950 | Age 9: 3,000,000

Cabba

Age 5: 911 | Age 11: 2,850,000

Raditz

Age 6: 850 | Age 12: 2,700,000

Some of them were hundreds of years old. While they were several times stronger than us, we had become incredibly strong in a very short amount of time. More than that, we hadn’t had our first growthspurt yet, and with it would come a massive jump in power. It was possible that by the time we had it, our power level would jump to Elite-Class. 

“Their progress has been exemplary,” King Vegeta said, and it sounded like honest praise. “We have already seen great results with our children surviving the Wilds in greater numbers and they are becoming warriors faster than ever. Yet, I wanted a sample to compare their progress too. As such, I allowed the most promising of our current traditions to form a team. Turles, enter.”

Motherfucker. This motherfucker. How? How?

It took everything that I had to keep the dumbfounded expression off of my face as Turles and his team stepped into the throne room. His gaze instantly found mine, and my thoughts must have slipped through because he smirked the moment that he saw me. He strode into the throne room with the confident swagger of someone who knew victory was assured, followed by four others -- Arula, the Sea King. Rako, the Sky King. Bassel, the Desert King. And Daiko, the Mountain King.

They had gone through their first growth spurt, every single one of them. They looked like they were in their late teens, and in another couple of years, they would have their final growth spurt which would have them look like they were in their twenties. The first growth spurt came with a sizable power boost, I knew that much already, but even it couldn’t account for the nonsense that I was forced to bear witness to. 

“I have given both teams absolute freedom in how they approached this challenge. Now, witness the results,” King Vegeta said, looking to me with his lips curled into a smirk. Directly across from me, a hologram appeared over Turles’ head, much like my own, displaying his previous power level to his current one. 

Turles

Age 10: 2,400 | Age 16: 22,000,000

Arula

Age 11: 2,000 | Age 17: 16,500,000

Rako

Age 13: 1,850 | Age 19: 10,660,000

Bassel

Age 12: 1,800 | Age 18: 9,000,000

Daiko

Age 10: 1,400 | Age 16: 8,800,000

It made no sense. Even Vegeta felt the same as he visibly recoiled when he saw that Turles had a larger power level than him. As did Arula. Parsley was sweating bullets too as he realized that Turles was within spitting distance of taking his spot in the Elite-Class. The growth spurt probably accounted for some of it, sure, but their power levels were all in the tens of millions. It was absurd. 

So absurd that I knew something was up. Their ki felt off. Fuzzy. Like static? It didn’t feel like anyone else in the room, which were solid as stone. Turles’ felt… inflated? I wasn’t even sure how to describe it. 

“The results speak for themselves, it would seem,” King Vegeta uttered with a sense of finality. “While the contest is still ongoing, I believe that this is a good indication of what we can expect from the results. While there is something valuable to the deviation, I declare that this contest is ov-”

“No, it’s not,” I interjected, my hands clenching into fists as I looked up at Turles. His smirk widened until it became a smug smile. He looked at me like I was some pathetic creature that was in over its head. I didn’t know who pissed me off more -- Turles and his smug face, or King Vegeta, who was trying to end this contest early. “I want to fight him.”

The throne room was silent and I could tell King Vegeta was incensed at being interrupted. However, someone unexpected spoke. 

“The brat is right -- numbers are just numbers. Let ‘em fight,” Queen Teach spoke up from her throne with amusement in her tone. King Vegeta glanced at her before his expression tightened.

“You’re too soft,” he accused with a sigh in his voice. “But, very well, they shall fight-”

I took that as my cue and darted forward. The Kaioken was like a glove at this point for the early stages, and my power level spiked with a x6 Kaioken, bringing me about even with Turles’ power level. Turles’ eyes widened but he utterly failed to react as my fist slammed into his face, slamming him through the castle wall with a sonic boom, and he went flying. 

It was petty. It was needless. But, I made damn sure to look over at King Vegeta to see his face, choosing to linger just long enough for the hologram above my head to recalibrate to display a new power level. 

21,000,000.

His eyes bugged out, his lips parting as he jerked forward in his throne. The indifferent expression melted away to one of naked shock, and I seared that expression into my mind. I couldn’t even stop the smirk that tugged at my lips as the others readied themselves. “Caulifla, Cabba, Raditz -- crush them. No mercy.”

“Wasn’t gonna give ‘em any!” Caulifla shouted, her own power level spiking. However, I didn’t linger as I blasted out of the throne room to chase after Turles, who struggled to recover from the blow. 

I couldn’t let King Vegeta call the contest. Not before I was ready. I didn’t care how he was willing to compromise on things, or if he saw value in my methods. What I needed to do was introduce enough doubt that he kept things going for a while longer. 

“Tarble!” Turles roared at me, an aura of ki flaring around him, and I felt it wash over me as we clashed once more in the open air. It was a dark purple, almost black, and it felt… gross. Cabba said that he could sometimes sense emotions or intent in people’s ki, but I had never felt something like that until now. Turles’ aura felt like it was clogging my pores with filth. It felt vile. “Enjoy that lucky hit. It’ll be the only one you get!” 

“The arrogant act was cute as a kid, but now that you’re older it's just sad,” I said, slipping into Kaioken x7 to deliver another blow that sent him reeling back. He slammed into the ground like a missile, sending up a massive plume of dust, and I followed him through it, not letting him get a chance to recover. Darting down, I slammed a foot into his gut, sending out a shockwave that immediately dissipated the dust. 

Turles’ mouth was open, his eyes wide, and his expression one of utter disbelief. I narrowed my eyes at it. This was…

“Especially when that arrogance is so undeserved. You bribe someone to inflate your power level or something?” I asked him, knowing that wasn’t exactly the case, but I wanted to needle him a bit to get a reaction. His ki felt strong enough to be around twenty-two million, as weird as it felt. I’m just not sure what he did to get that power level in the first place, only that it definitely wasn’t training. 

My words had the intended effect because I got the exact reaction that I wanted. Turles’ expression twisted into one of pure rage, snarling up at me with bloody teeth. “I’ll show you exactly what I deserve,” he snapped at me before his ki flared and he launched himself up at me. 

A fist raced for my face, but I had no trouble at all leaning out of the way of it to deliver a kick to the bottom of his chin. He shot up, his expression conveying his growing rage as a flurry of blows raced towards me, every single one of them I dodged near effortlessly before countering. My eyes narrowed into slits as I drove an elbow into his diaphragm, hearing the air explode from his lungs. 

“Sloppy,” I gave my verdict, spinning sharply to kick Turles in the face. He had the strength and the speed, but something was off. There was a… clunk with his fighting that hadn’t been there the last time we fought. No- no, that wasn’t it at all. That clunk had been there when we fought. It was my own inexperience at the time that prevented me from seeing it for what it was. “Still bullying the weak, are we?”

Turles didn’t fight like someone used to fighting peers. He was used to delivering one-sided beatdowns. Honestly, he was a better fighter years ago. 

“Shut up,” Turles snarled at me, his fists flying at me, and I started to punish the openings he left me. For six going on seven years, I had trained relentlessly with the others and I always felt like I had a blind spot of sorts when it came to perceiving how far we had come. Was I that much better of a fighter or had I simply gotten used to fighting the others? Now, I felt like I had something of an answer because it was almost easy to slip his guard and slam an elbow to his nose. “How are you doing this?!”

“I can’t believe you had me nervous,” I replied, not answering his question. Better to let him stew in it. “I thought this was going to be a challenge,” I taunted, kicking him in the chest and flipping back in time to dodge a swing and a subsequent ki blast. 

“I said shut up! I’ve suffered enough humiliation at your hands!” Turles roared, veins bulging in his face as he bared his teeth. That aura of purple ki flared around him a began to swell. My eyes narrowed into slits as I realized his ki signature was growing. He was powering up, getting stronger. And not in inconsiderable jumps, either. His power level was spiking. Harshly. 

The purple ki started to darken into a pitch black, and it was only then that it clicked into place. I knew what this was. 

Evil Ki. 

I had only seen the Prison Planet Saga once, and that had been years before I found myself in a Saiyan body, but there was no mistaking it. That was Evil Ki, something that I thought was unique to Cumber, the Ancient Saiyan that had featured so heavily in the saga. Seeing it made me uneasy -- in the show, Evil Ki had turned Goku into a mindless berserker, but that hadn’t happened to me so far. No, it was the opposite -- I could see Turles’ lose control over himself as veins bulged in his face while the violent and vile ki swirled around him. 

“Turles, what did you do?” I asked, not even expecting an answer. I didn’t think he was capable of giving one. A pit opened up in my gut, and I wasn’t sure if I really wanted an answer. The ki felt vile. I’d rather bathe in liquid shit than feel it. It was completely unlike anything I had ever experienced before, and, if I listened closely, I would swear I heard other people screaming alongside Turles as he powered up. 

Only theirs were screams of fear and pain.

“Frightened already, Tarble?” Turles roared before he moved. I had to slip into Kaioken x8 to catch the punch with a palm, letting myself get knocked back as I tested his new strength. It wasn’t a multiplier, but Turles’ power level had just spiked to around thirty million. “You should be! I’m going to make you regret ever showing your face to me!”

With that, Turles raced after me, his fists flying with a wild savagery that had no thought or planning behind them. That should have made them easy to dodge, but I found that the fists and kicks came faster and faster. Every miss was feeding into his anger, and I could sense his ki spiking higher and higher equal to his frustration. 

“Alright, I suppose I’ll start taking you seriously,” I muttered, blocking a blow to pivot and kick at his elbow, forcing it to overextend. As I did so, I moved my tail to unclip the Resistance Ring at the base of it, and instantly, I felt the heavy resistance that slowed my every movement vanish. It made my reactions feel sharper, and even with his wild onslaught of attacks, I found I could suddenly slip through the gaps to deliver punishing counters. 

Every slipped punch or blow delivered seemed to enrage Turles even further, which fed into his spiking ki that seemed to grow without end. It was actually a little frustrating -- he just shrugged off damage, too pissed off to notice that he had been hurt, then he tried to hit me back, with every punch coming faster than the last. In the span of a minute, his ki spiked up to forty million, and it was racing towards fifty. 

The cocky smirk was gone from my face as I met the enraged Turles blow for blow, forced to use Kaioken x12 to keep up with his growing power level. But, I knew that was just feeding into the cycle of him getting stronger to match me. 

Though, for all of his strength, Turles simply charged me like a maddened bull, which made it easy to pull him to the Wastes where I didn’t sense anyone nearby. Once we had arrived, I darted in, taking in a deep breath as the familiar pain of the Kaioken x20 filled me before I drove a fist into Turles’ stomach, folding him around my fist. He gasped as he flung back, and for a moment, I thought I might have knocked him out of his berserker state, only for his ki to spike once more and he was flying right back at me. 

Sixty million. Seventy million. Eighty million. 

Turles was screaming mindlessly as he raced to meet me, our clashing fists sending out a shockwave that blasted apart the solid stone of the wastes. Turles’ fist snapped back from a Critical Strike, blood flying free from the broken arm, but he clenched his fist to use his muscles to keep the bone in shape. The opportunity to defeat him before he managed to out pace me was slipping through my fingers, I realized. 

Clenching my jaw, I pressed the attack, snapping his head back as I delivered a Critical Strike to his face, but he just wouldn’t go down. “Quit being an asshole, Turles! I’m really going to have to kill you at this rate!” I snapped at him, a fist grazing my cheek as his ki signature spiked even higher. I had figured I could outpace him with the Kaioken or do enough damage to end the fight, but blows that should have put him down were just making him stronger. 

However, the graze he managed to deliver was like throwing blood in the water. Turles roared wordlessly, and it sounded like he was in equal parts rage, pain, and ecstasy before he threw another punch that I was forced to block. The impact rattled my bones, knocking me back a few hundred feet. I dodged out of the way of a double hammer fist, but I was forced to block again as he lashed out with a kick. 

Alright. I had spared him once already -- I hadn’t wanted to kill a kid. But now he was a teenager. I’m not sure if that was better, but if he had gotten Evil Ki the way I thought he did…

“Fine,” I growled, racing back up to meet him. Our fists clashed, sending out a shockwave that echoed out across the planet, causing cliffs and stone outcroppings to shatter into pieces despite being hundreds of miles away. As we clashed, I felt myself start to get pushed back, and Turles had met the Kaioken x20 head on. Flexing my ki, emerging from my back was a ki clone with a familiar green light cupped in its hands. 

Turles looked up at the clone just in time for it to unleash a Kamehameha into his face, making him roar out in pain. The clone held the technique before the very ki that it was made out of flowed into the attack, and a second later, both vanished entirely. It wouldn’t be enough, but it was a diversion that allowed me dive in, driving an elbow into Turles’ neck, and I felt his trachea being crushed under the blow. 

Yet, he still wouldn’t go down. His ki spiked higher as he lashed out blindly, striking me with a blow that I had barely been able to register before it slammed into my face. I was flung away, striking a mountouus outcropping and shattering it like glass. Turles was on me in a split second, forcing me to catch a kick with my hands while another two clones erupted from my back. These wielding Destructo Disks. 

Somewhere in that head of his, there was enough of his instincts left for them to scream at him to move and he managed to dodge a Destructo Disk that raced for his head. Another went for his outstretched leg, and he immediately tried to withdraw it. However, my fingers dug into this ankle. Part of me wanted to look away, but I didn’t. It wouldn’t have mattered when hot blood splashed over my face.

Turles sounded like a dying animal as he jerked back, clutching at the stump of his leg that was severed at the knee. I tossed the limb in my grip to the side before clenching my fists. Clones sprouted from my back and they darted forward, each one delivering a blow to Turles while I brought my fingers to my forehead. 

Lightning began to cackle from the point where they touched as I charged up the Special Beam Cannon. The clones were the distraction -- they were weak, and they lasted all of one attack before dissipating, and that was without them taking a hit. I mostly used them for creating opportunities or exploiting openings. 

Turles smashed his way through the clones, or ate the hits to chase after me. His ki presence was spiking even higher, but it felt sluggish. I had finally found his limit, I realized as I didn’t flinch from his wordless roar of rage and hate. “Dodon Ray-”

Just as the technique leapt from my fingers, I sensed a presence arrive a split second before the Dodon Ray was batted away with a swat of a hand, before the same figure drove a fist into Turles’s face so hard that I’m pretty sure that his skull shattered before he was sent to the ground with devastating force. 

“Tsk,” I sucked my teeth, knowing who it was when I saw the dumb cape. 

King Vegeta turned around to face me, his expression severe as he looked down at me. “When I began this little game, Tarble, I made it clear you are not to kill each other without my express permission.” He said, crossing his arms as we flew above the crater that Turles resided in. He was down for the count, that vile ki retreating back inside of him, but I noticed something off. 

Turles’ power level had plummeted to fourteen million. Now, that could be because of the fractured skull and the missing half of his leg, but I don’t think that was it. Not entirely, at least. That artificially inflated power level had been burnt away. His massive power-up had reduced his overall power level, I think. 

I didn’t look away from King Vegeta’s heavy gaze. I had weakened Turles up a fair bit, but he had finished the fight upon his arrival. Power levels always felt a bit nebulous as a concept for me, and they were hard to gauge at times. Like, I could probably blow up a small planet if I wanted to, but I didn’t, so it was a feeling of ‘numbers going up.’ Still tickled my monkey brain, but the gaps in power were hard to gauge. 

Until now. I had never seen one of my techniques be batted away like it was a baseball before. And, I gotta admit, I don’t think I cared for it. 

“Fine,” I relented. I didn’t want to kill Turles -- not really. I didn’t want to kill anyone if I didn’t have to. But, it was one thing to kill him in the heat of battle, and another to kill him while he was defeated. 

King Vegeta let out a small breath, something like a sigh but not quite. “You have impressed me, Tarble,” King Vegeta said, some of the harshness in his voice bleeding away. “Truly. Both you and Turles have found viable paths to power, but you, in particular, have developed a technique that… For generations, the Oozaru transformation has been our ultimate ability. It multiplied our strength, increased our durability, but it was not one without downsides.”

King Vegeta went to place a hand on my shoulder but I very deliberately moved out of the way of his hand. His eyes twitched ever so slightly, but he closed the hand and didn’t try to force the gesture. “The technique you created has not only surpassed the Oozaru transformation, but it has eliminated its weaknesses. It is worthy of being inherited by those of the Royal Family.”

This fucking guy, dude. This fucking guy. 

I couldn’t stand him. And the more I had to interact with him, I not only justified my hatred but I found new reasons to hate him more. 

“I’m not part of the royal family,” I pointed out drily. I was hardly fresh, and I lost the advantage of surprise, but I still had a chance. A slim one. I had never gone beyond a x20 Kaioken, but if I had to try it now… 

“... No, you are not,” King Vegeta agreed with me. “Your stubbornness is regretful but unsurprising. Considering how weak you were and how I treated you, I imagine it has colored your perception of me.” Oh, he was pissing me off. Even when he was doing damage control -- and purely because I had something that he wanted -- he still sounded like a condescending prick. “I do not expect you to change your mind so easily about your refusal to accept your heritage.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” I admitted. I made my choice. Even if he made the offer again, I wouldn’t accept it. Not when that offer came with strings attached. 

King Vegeta held my gaze for a moment, and I could tell he was annoyed. There was a rigidity in his posture that betrayed how irritated he was with my refusal. “Then you will not accept teaching this technique?” He asked, and I could hear the promise of violence in his tone. That lethal intent that he couldn’t quite hide. 

If I refused outright, I was certain he’d try to kill me. He’d probably succeed, too. Then he’d go to Caulifla and the others to try to get the technique out of them. 

“Not to you,” I replied, and I couldn’t quite keep the animosity out of my voice either. “I’d be fine with teaching it to Vegeta. For a cost,” I added, bracing myself for his reaction, whatever it might be. 

“And what would that cost be?” King Vegeta asked tersely, crossing his arms over his chest. The action betrayed how much Lil Vegeta took after him because their stances were identical. 

I… actually had no idea, to be completely honest. It wasn’t like I had planned this out. I had hoped to keep the Kaioken under wraps for a little while yet. I figured the cat would get out the bag eventually, but not like this. I figured that with this game of show and tell, we would have outpaced Turles and his team so badly that we wouldn’t even need to use the Kaioken. 

“I want first crack at all the contracts the Saiyan race gets offered,” I started and when King Vegeta began to nod, I continued. “I want massive discounts on supplies, refueling, war materials, medical supplies, and technologies.” No real reaction there, so I kept pushing. “Any Saiyan that graduates from my tribe, I get first dibs on their recruitment, and I retain that right to recruit them at any time,” I said, and that got a twitch in one of his eyes. That annoyed him. 

Alright. Let's see how far this could go. I didn’t want to become reliant on King Vegeta or the Saiyan Empire for anything, so I didn’t want to do something like take money or something. Even if the thought did appeal. The Kaioken was a game changer -- I knew that much. I didn’t even particularly mind teaching it to Vegeta in the first place, but I wanted King Vegeta to pay for it. The thing was, a lot of the overall freedoms that I wanted were already covered by becoming High-Class. 

So, I wanted to go for something big. Something game-changing. I was already working on fixing how Saiyans treated their kids, but if I had to tackle another big issue. “And slavery is eliminated from the empire,” I said, going for broke, and that got a mild glare from King Vegeta. 

“No,” he refused and made no move to explain why. Okay. That was a step too far, I guess. How about a half step back?

“Slavery is reduced to… five percent of a slave’s total life time, and the status of slavery is not inherited by their children,” I said. It wasn’t great, but I didn’t know enough about the Empire's client races to think of something better. It would mean some could be enslaved for days, others for decades, but… it was something. A step in the right direction… to a admittedly extremely long road. 

King Vegeta mulled that over for just a moment before he nodded, “That is acceptable.” He didn’t care, I realized. He didn’t care enough to argue about the topic. It was just granting outright freedom would be too big of a pain in the ass. “Anything else?”

“... Yeah,” I decided, my lips curling into a frown. “You don’t get to learn the Kaioken. Vegeta can’t teach it to you.” There we go -- that pissed him off. His lips started to peel back into a snarl, but he seemed to catch himself, instead narrowing his eyes into a glare. 

He clenched his jaw, “Do you truly detest me so, child?” He asked me, and he had the audacity to sound offended. 

I thought about it for a moment. Honestly, I didn’t care that much about him dismissing me as a genetic dead end and throwing me from the window. It didn’t do him any favors, sure, but I wasn’t that broken up about it or anything. It was everything that came after that I hated about him -- the Wilds, the mass enslavement, the careless disregard for anything other than his own power. And, even now, the only thing he cared about was how I could be used to make his position more solidified. 

So, I really thought about it and gave my answer. 

“Yeah. I think I do,” I told him, not even bothering to hide my distaste for him. He held my glare for a long moment, but he offered no real reaction to them. He didn’t care. What he wanted was my potential and my techniques. 

“Very well, then,” King Vegeta replied, his tone decidedly flat. “Your demands shall be met. During the remaining time that you have on this planet, you will teach Vegeta the Kaioken. Additionally, you will refrain from spreading this technique any further than you already have.” He didn’t even have to add the ‘or else.’ It was pretty clear in his tone. 

That was irritating, but I had prepared myself for that stipulation the moment he revealed his interest. I offered a curt nod to him, accepting it the condition for what it was. 

Then, without another word, King Vegeta flew away without so much as a goodbye. Leaving me to look down at Turles, finding that he was being loaded up onto a medical stretcher to be taken to a Healing Pod. I clenched my jaw, and I knew my problems weren’t over just yet. 

First and foremost? 

I needed to figure out how in the hell Turles got his hands on a Tree of Might seed.