A planet not far from Planet Metamoran.
The human settlements on this world looked as if they had just been put to the sword. Houses lay in ruins, the ground was spider-webbed with craters, and thick, acrid smoke choked the air.
"Have you two finished scrubbing the indigenous filth from this rock?"
Inside a desolate palace, an eight-year-old boy sat upon a throne. His hairline was exceptionally high, forming a sharp V-shape at his forehead. He looked cool and composed, but his voice was like a poisonous viper—cold, hollow, and devoid of any human warmth.
Below the throne stood two figures: a bald, hulking man and a young boy with hair that cascaded down to his waist—a hairstyle so jagged it almost resembled a Super Saiyan 3 state.
"The natives of this planet have been completely eradicated," Raditz murmured, keeping his head bowed. He didn't dare meet the eyes of the boy on the throne.
"Gran was ambushed by natives playing dead back then," the bald man, Nappa, added with a hint of trepidation. "Rest assured, we won't repeat such a pathetic mistake."
The boy on the throne was Vegeta. At the mention of Gran, a vein pulsed angrily on his forehead. "Gran was a waste of space," he spat. "An Elite-class Saiyan who was careless enough to let a savage ambush him and cut off his tail? It's a disgrace to our entire race!"
"You'd better hope you actually finished them off. If you get ambushed, you'll end up exactly like him—discarded."
The thought of being abandoned by Vegeta made Nappa and Raditz shudder. They quickly took to the skies to sweep the planet one last time.
Alone in the hall, Vegeta stared into the emptiness. "Hmph. Damned Frieza... one day, I'll kill you with my own hands."
Even at this age, Vegeta's eyes were filled with a demonic ferocity. Since the destruction of Planet Vegeta three years ago, Frieza's attitude toward their squad had turned sour. They were buried under back-to-back missions, leaving almost zero time for actual cultivation.
Vegeta wasn't a fool. He remembered the recall order sent to all Saiyans before the planet exploded—an order his squad had ignored. Then came Frieza's "official" report: Planet Vegeta was destroyed by a meteor.
A meteor? What a joke. With warriors like his father, King Vegeta, and Raditz's father, Bardock—a man with a power level exceeding 10,000—a mere meteor couldn't have done a thing. Frieza was lying.
But Vegeta knew he couldn't openly defy the Emperor yet. He stayed away from headquarters, ignoring orders and conquering planets at his own pace. For three years, Frieza seemed to have forgotten about them.
Vegeta flew up a thousand meters and began raining energy blasts on the ruins below. This "Prince's Strategy"—mindless bombardment—was his daily training.
Meanwhile, a mid-sized spaceship streaked through the void. Inside were the five flamboyant members of the Ginyu Force.
"They say this martial arts prodigy is only nine and defeated a warrior with a 100,000 power level. You think it's true?" Burter asked, rubbing his chin.
Jeice snickered. "Captain Ginyu has trained for years to reach 122,000. How could a nine-year-old brat match that?"
"No, it's possible," Captain Ginyu interrupted, his eyes gleaming. "There are those born with monstrous power. I once saw someone who had a power level in the hundreds of millions at birth!"
The other four froze. "H-Hundreds of millions?!"
Ginyu shook his head silently. He was thinking of Lord Frieza—the mutant born with power so vast he had to create forms to suppress it.
Suddenly, Recoome pointed at the radar. "Captain! I found Vegeta's ship on a nearby planet!"
"Vegeta?" Ginyu's eyes turned cold. "Word is that the brat is planning to defect. Change course. We'll prune the weeds for Lord Frieza before we go after the 'prodigy.'"
Back on the planet, Vegeta was pummeling Nappa and Raditz. At age 8, his power level had already reached 6,000. Nappa sat at 2,500, and Raditz was at the bottom of the food chain with a measly 600.
"Why are you so weak?!" Vegeta roared, blasting them both into the dirt. "Raditz, you're older than Gran was, yet you're even more pathetic!"
He ended the "spar" with two energy volleys that left his teammates smouldering on the ground. Half an hour later, as they regained consciousness, Nappa spoke up tentatively.
"Vegeta... our growth is too slow. At this rate, we'll never beat Frieza. Even if we train for twenty years, it's only the three of us."
Vegeta remained silent. He knew it was the truth.
"We should gather the other exiled Saiyans," Nappa urged. "If we band together and use our Great Ape (Oozaru) forms, we might stand a chance!"
Raditz bolstered his courage. "Nappa's right. My father and King Vegeta were strong, but they still died. We need numbers. Vegeta, I have a younger brother, remember?"
Vegeta's eye twitched. "Raditz, are you looking to die? Answer my question."
"Hahaha!" Nappa burst out laughing. "Vegeta, sorry, but Raditz's brother is a joke! His name is Kakarot, and he was born with a power level of 2. A waste of an Elite brother, a waste of a Low-class sibling—what a pair!"
Vegeta's fist clenched. A power level of 2? A dog has more fighting spirit than that. Then he remembered that he had a younger brother (Tarble) who had been exiled for the same reason. He was essentially insulting himself. "Shut up, Nappa! One more laugh and I'll kill you!"
"..." Nappa's laughter died instantly.
"Vegeta," Raditz said seriously, "before the planet blew up, my father sent Kakarot to a world called Earth. He told me Kakarot was our hope. He said he had a premonition that Kakarot would one day become the Legendary Super Saiyan."
A brief silence followed.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" Vegeta and Nappa roared with laughter, clutching their stomachs.
"Raditz, you idiot," Vegeta wheezed. "If the legend is true, the only one who can become a Super Saiyan is ME, Vegeta! Understand?"
Just as the words left his mouth, three distinct, divine pressures descended upon the planet. A youthful, mocking voice rang in their ears:
"The only one who can be a Super Saiyan is you? Just you, Vegeta? What kind of trash are you talking about?!"
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