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Ten thousand in battle power.
How many Saiyans in the entire history of their race had ever surpassed that number?
Even among the elite of the elite—even for him, King Vegeta himself—his own power level was nowhere near that!
Compared to that freakish strength, he was short by eight thousand points.
The thought made his blood boil. It wasn't just jealousy; it was fury on behalf of his son.
So, without hesitation, he'd made the cruelest decision possible: exile the boy to some barren, lifeless rock and leave him there to die.
"Super Saiyan… Super Saiyan!" King Vegeta bellowed, his aura flaring violently and shaking the entire royal hall. "Even if the legend were true, the one destined to become that warrior should've been me! Or Vegeta—my son! The royal bloodline!"
In his mind, that troublesome child was already dead, and the traitor Paragus along with him.At least, that's what all his reports said—no survivors, no trace, no possibility.
The great hall fell silent once more. King Vegeta sat back on his throne, brooding, conserving his strength, as if preparing for something yet to come.
What he didn't know was that, at that very moment, on a distant world called Vampa—
Two Saiyans, one grown and one still a boy, were struggling through the planet's vicious storms, scavenging what food they could find.
Paragus and Broly.
When they first arrived, their ship had been wrecked beyond repair. No way to escape. No way to send a signal.The only thing left to do was survive.
Broly didn't seem to mind much. He didn't need much, didn't even fully understand their situation.But for Paragus—barely thirty years old and already streaked with white hair—it was torture.
He'd lost count of how many times he regretted coming here in the first place.
Every time the thought surfaced, though, he forced it down.Because deep in his heart, he believed his son was the greatest Saiyan alive.A child born with a battle power of ten thousand—he had to be the legendary Super Saiyan that appeared once every thousand years.
Carrying supplies on his back, Paragus pushed forward toward the cave they used as shelter.This year, the planet's storms were worse than ever.
"Hurry it up, Broly! This is the last run—we'll hole up until the storm passes." Paragus shouted over the howling wind.
Broly nodded, silent as ever, and worked even harder.
After what felt like forever, they finally dragged a dozen heavy barrels back into the underground cave.
Only down here could they escape the lethal gusts ripping across the surface.
They were powerful—strong enough to destroy a planet if they wanted to—but the storms on Vampa were something else entirely.They weren't caused by energy blasts or weapons, but by the planet's own natural currents, dense and violent enough to shred anything to dust.
No matter how durable the material, under that constant assault, it would crumble.That was why the planet's surface was just a wasteland of craters and scars.
And worst of all, those storms came once every twelve months—and lasted four to six months each time.
"Take a break, Broly. I'll handle the rest," Paragus said gently.He tried to be a good father, even here.
Broly might have been a monster in strength, but he was still just a kid.
They gathered supplies, carried them, sorted them—it was endless.If not for the storms, Paragus could've handled all this easily.
After all, his own battle power was over three thousand.
Out in deep space—
A lone spaceship cut through the void at insane speed, heading straight toward an unknown destination.
It was Harry's ship, without question.
Ten days passed in a blur.
Inside the cockpit, tension filled the air.
It was time to act.
"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Gine asked nervously. "If you damage it, the scouter won't be able to scan power levels—or contact anyone. If something happens, we won't even be able to send a distress signal!"
Across from her, Harry had the device open, tiny tools in hand, carefully removing parts from the circuit board.
To a Saiyan, a scouter was practically a part of daily life—a vital tool as essential as food or oxygen.Without it, most felt half-blind.
It was like suddenly losing your smartphone—not only could you not call anyone, but no GPS, no signal, no data. All you could do was hold it, maybe use the calculator, or jot down a note.
Harry didn't even look up. "Aunt Gine, I told you—this was Uncle Bardock's order. There were things he didn't tell you because he didn't want you to worry. We've been off Planet Vegeta for ten days now. We're far enough away. That means it's time for me to follow through on what he and I planned."
Lately, whenever Gine questioned him, Harry's answer was always the same—"It's Bardock's instructions."
Everything he did was "because Bardock said so."That way, if anything went wrong, it wasn't really on him.
Gine frowned. "Still… this seems too reckless. Without a communicator, how's Bardock supposed to reach us?"
She wanted to stop him, but couldn't bring herself to.If it really was Bardock's idea, she had no right to interfere.
"Don't worry, Aunt Gine," Harry said calmly. "I'm not destroying the receiver module. We just won't be able to send or be tracked. We'll still pick up broadcasts, just not respond to them."
That was only half true.
What the modified scouter could receive were general transmissions, not direct messages.Without the tracking module, it existed in a strange limbo—Still listed in the central system, but invisible to scanners.
When Harry first learned about this odd quirk of the technology, he couldn't believe it himself.By all logic, it shouldn't work that way—but it did.
"…Alright," Gine sighed at last. "Just… be careful, okay?"
Half an hour later, Harry was done.
He handed her the modified scouter, and after confirming everything else still worked, Gine finally relaxed, unaware of just how far Bardock's "instructions" were about to reach.
"..."
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