Dragon Ball Z: The Beast Within - CH35

[Escarot POV]

Three weeks into Okara’s Great Ape training and I was back to just sparring with her, leaving her transformation lessons on hold for now. Too much of anything was bad. And I knew first hand how exhausting it was to train that, non-stop.

Okara rushed me again, her hair whipping behind her, as she darted forward, at full speed. I parried her right punch with a twist of my forearm, letting the force slide off instead of clashing against it head-on.

She grunted. I smirked.

Not bad.

She was still easy to read.

But she was definitely getting better.

It wasn’t a bad fight, not by any means. She’d gotten faster. Her reactions were sharper, and she was finally starting to think ahead instead of just charging in fists first. The problem was... me.

I hadn’t really gotten stronger.

Sure, a little bit. Incremental tiny gains. But nothing close to what I was expecting. Since Namek, the leap I had during that period had basically flatlined. Most of this past year had been spent traveling, hiding, planning. Helping Okara grow stronger.

I felt stagnated. And I hated it.

Namek had been a peak for me. A moment where I stood against impossible odds and pulled something impossible out of myself. I’d felt unstoppable back then. But now, training, eating, guiding, sparring—I was just getting by.

Ducking under a kick, I threw a light jab toward her jaw, one she barely managed to dodge, before I followed up with a sweeping kick that forced her back mid-air. She twisted to recover, feet digging into the dirt as she landed.

Wasting no time, she darted forward.

This time, I caught her wrist mid-punch, twisted, pulled her forward and drove my knee into her gut. As she doubled over, gasping for air, I brought my right elbow down across her upper back.

The impact made a sharp boom echo through the sky before her body cratered the ground beneath. Dirt shot upward in a dusty halo.

I landed in front of her, arms folded.

"That’s all for today."

Okara groaned in her pit. “So… how’d I do?”

She pushed herself up, spat a bit of blood to the side, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“Great,” I said, tilting my head slightly. “You’re finally getting creative with your attacks instead of throwing them around praying they work. And you didn’t fall for most of my feints this time.”

She grinned, puffing her chest out. “Heh, I’m awesome.” Her tail curled smugly around her waist like it was agreeing with her.

“But,” I added, watching her face scrunch in protest, “You still fight like the best solution to any problem is to headbutt it into submission.”

“What’s the problem with that? I like headbutting things,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Nothing,” I said, “if you’re strong enough. But not every enemy’s gonna stand there and trade punches with you. Some will be stronger. Some will use weird techniques to level the playing field. And if they’re around your power level…”

I let the sentence hang. Hoping she would complete it.

She picked it up. “Experience?”

“Exactly,” I nodded. “Experience makes a big difference. A weaker fighter with more experience can absolutely outmaneuver someone stronger.”

She squinted, looking at me. “So, wait. If you fought someone as strong as you or even a little weaker, but they had more experience, you’d lose?”

“Yep.”

She blinked, taken aback by my response. “Really?”

“Experience means knowing how to use every ounce of your power the right way. So yeah, if someone close to my level had years on me in combat, odds are they’d beat me.”

Her brow furrowed. “So... if I had more experience, I could beat you?”

“Haha, fuck no,” I chuckled. “The gap between us isn’t small enough for that logic to apply. I’m still several leagues ahead of you.”

She pouted. “Unfair.”

“Reality,” I replied.

Then she perked up. “Wait—what about that old Namekian guy. What was his name? Worm?”

“Slug,” I corrected.

“Same thing. You weren’t that much stronger than him. And he was older than you, and you said that he had more experience, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So… how come you didn't lose?”

“First of all,” I said simply. “He was stronger than me. Not by a huge margin, mind you, but enough. And yeah, he had more experience too.”

“Wait, he had more power and experience?! But how?! You won!”

“Well, like I said; there’s more than one way to approach a fight, in this particular case. If your opponent’s got more power and experience, the only edge left to exploit is craft. You out-think them. Outsmart them. Find their weakness and fight as dirty as needed.”

“Like?” Okara leaned in.

“Well, in Slug’s case... I whistled… real hard,” I replied.

She tilted her head. “You whistled?”

“He had sensitive hearing. Being a Namekian and all. So I weaponized it.”

She stared for a moment, then laughed. “That’s so dumb!”

“And effective,” I said with a grin. “Not my fault nature gave him such a disadvantage.”

“So, if you hadn’t done that… you would’ve lost?” Okara asked, tilting her head.

“Most likely,” I nodded.

“But isn’t that what a coward would do?” Okara asked after a moment.

“When it comes to life and death, Okara, all fights inherently lack honor, with the only defining outcome being the identification of a victor,” I replied, flicking her forehead.

“Auch,” Okara muttered, rubbing her forehead.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

[Paragus POV]

I stepped into the nursery, reaching the elite floor. It had been a while since I last came here, to check on my first born, Escarot. I still remember the pride I felt when I saw my little cub, and his potential.

Slowly, I passed the low-class section, then mid-class, followed by high-class. And at the very top, where only two pods laid, was my son.

Broly.

I still couldn’t believe it.

But my cub's pod sat at the elite tier, right beside the pod of the prince Vegeta IV. I placed a hand on the cool glass. Two days old, and already this boy had shattered expectations, much more so than his older brother had.

I watched Broly drift in the nutrient gel. Unlike his brother, his expression wasn’t fierce or defiant. It was soft… kind even. That softness irked me.

He wasn’t like Escarot. My firstborn had practically snarled at the pod walls, even as a newborn. Fists clenched. Teeth gritted. There was no mistaking the fury in that boy. But Broly?

Broly just... floated. Peacefully. His expression calm. Eyes closed, face soft.

It was unsettling.

Escarot had been born with a power level of 1275, breaking all previous records, placing him in the high-class tier instantly, to the shock of nearly everyone. And now Broly… born even stronger. No, not just stronger…

An Elite Class warrior, without royal blood.

The first of his kind.

“You keep siring strangely powerful children, Paragus,” Nion said, voice cool and dry, walking up beside me. She didn’t look at me, just stared at the pod, arms folded behind her back.

“I expect nothing less from my children,” I replied automatically, my voice flat. But the truth was, I had no idea what to expect anymore. Escarot had already broken all previous records. Then the King’s son was born and surpassed him, as many had expected.

And now Broly had shattered the scale entirely.

Nion walked closer, placing a hand on the data panel beside the pod. “Initial reading was 918,” she said, fingers tapping a few keys. “But that reading is now obsolete. His power keeps increasing by the minute.”

I said nothing.

“In the last scan,” she continued, “his power dropped to 1025, and then spiked back up to 9,149 within seconds. At this rate, tomorrow’s readings will be obsolete too, assuming our equipment is even able to read him at all, that is.”

I clenched my fists at my sides. “He will be a strong warrior,” I said. “The pride of the Saiyan race. Like his brother.”

Nion gave a faint hum of agreement. Or disagreement. It was hard to tell with her. Out of all the scientists I had dealt with in my life, she was by far the most unsettling one.

“Perhaps,” she said finally. “Or perhaps he will die before he ever leaves the pod.”

My head snapped toward her, ready to kill her. “Is that a threat?”

She didn’t flinch. Not even a twitch. Just kept staring at the pod. “A threat?” she echoed. “Paragus, I couldn’t hurt Broly if I tried. His power already far exceeds mine. And I have no interest in throwing my life or job away.”

I glared at her.

“I’m simply pointing out the truth,” she added. “If his power continues to rise at this rate without control. His body could burn itself out… or someone could deem him a threat, who knows, this is new ground for everyone.”

I turned back to Broly, watching the way his body barely moved in the gel, perfectly still.

“Besides,” Nion continued, her voice softening just a fraction. “I wouldn’t be doing justice to our kind if I did anything to him. For I have no doubt, your son is the legend made flesh.”

I turned to her again, slower this time. “You mean…”

She nodded. “The Legendary Super Saiyan.”

I blinked. My mouth opened, then closed.

My son?

My blood?

Broly?

The Legendary Super Saiyan?

It sounded ridiculous. It sounded like nonsense. I was but a mid-class warrior, and my mate was a low class warrior… But as I stared at the readings, as I stared at the impossible fluctuations… the doubt crept in. Not doubt in her words. Doubt in what it meant.

The Legendary Super Saiyan… could he really be the legend?

“He… he’s just a baby,” I muttered.

“Yes,” Nion said. “For now.”

“If he is… he will be of great service to the Saiyan Empire,” I replied, after a moment.

“He indeed would, and how could he not, a child born with power beyond anything we’ve ever recorded,” she continued. “One whose power is ever-growing. He only needs to be allowed to reach such heights, but that’s beyond anyone’s control, isn’t it?”

I stepped back, glaring at her. “You think someone will target him?”

I was getting tired of her dancing around this subject.

“Maybe,” Nion said. “I’m not one for politics, all I know is that the King will visit this level eventually, to check on his son. He’ll see your son on the same level as the heir. And then… who knows.”

I turned sharply to her. “Are you saying the King would harm my son?”

Nion gave me a small smile. “I never said that.”

This woman was infuriating, did she think I was stupid?! I knew very well what she was implying.

Would the King tolerate a child this powerful, born outside his bloodline? Would he allow the rise of a warrior who would undoubtedly surpass his son? Escarot had already made waves when he was born—but Broly would create a tsunami.

There was no telling. What would happen…

No, the King wasn’t an idiot. He would see the use of my son, the benefits of having him, just as he had seen the benefits of Escarot.

I have been nothing but loyal to him, there was no reason to expect he would ever do anything of the likes.

“The King will see the benefit of my child,” I said firmly. “Just like he did with Escarot.”

“Of course,” Nion said. “Why would our King do anything else?”

That’s right.

She stepped away from the pod’s display. “He gave your oldest a very important mission. One issued by the God of Destruction himself.”

I nodded. “Exactly. A three-man squad, hand-selected. Escarot. Okara. Garlik.”

Nion gave a soft hum. “A high-class warrior without field experience, a low-class orphan with anger issues, and an engineer with no combat experience.” She paused. “Quite the vote of confidence, especially considering the other squads the King sent had veterans, and many other resources that were denied to your son.”

I turned my head slowly, glaring. “Watch your words.”

“I’m only repeating the facts,” she said simply.

I didn’t answer right away.

Because the worst part was… she hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true.

Escarot’s squad had been a joke. No backup, no real intel, no resources. If things had gone sideways, they were as good as dead. And that mission had supposedly come from the God of Destruction himself. Why would the King risk something like that? Unless…

No.

No.

I forced the thought down.

“I trust the King knows what he’s doing,” I said, more to myself than her.

Nion tilted her head, just slightly. “Do you?”

My fists clenched again.

I didn’t come here to argue. I came to see my son. And if push came to shove, I would protect him.

From anyone.

“Thank you for your time,” I said, turning sharply and walking away from the pod.

“Of course,” Nion called out behind me. “Do give my regards to Escarot, should he ever return.”

I didn’t look back.

The doors closed behind me with a hiss, and I kept walking.

My heart beat a little faster.

My mind raced.

But one thing was certain.

No one was taking Broly from me.