The planet hung in silence — a world untamed, ruled by gravity and wind. Under its single blazing sun, life persisted only through strength, and for half a year, Razor and 18 had made it their home.
Every morning, the valley echoed with the sound of explosions and roaring winds. Craters littered the land where Razor had trained, each mark telling the story of struggle and endurance.
Morning: The Weight of Power
The sun had barely risen when the air began to hum. The light of dawn bent under a growing pressure — Razor stood alone at the heart of a ruined plateau, his black hair stirring in the hot breeze.
He inhaled deeply. Time to begin again.
Golden energy surged around him like a storm breaking free of its cage. The ground splintered. Lightning tore through the air as his aura erupted, and his hair lengthened into flowing gold. His teal eyes snapped open — fierce, alive, and radiant.
Super Saiyan 3.
But the power was still wild, burning through him. Razor clenched his fists, trying to maintain the form for a longer time as he starts training.
"Come on…" he growled, "Hold!"
The planet trembled. His aura flared, rising like a pillar of light visible for miles. Sweat rolled down his face as the air warped around him. Then, with a final roar, the storm stabilized for a moment — steady, restrained.
18 stood at the edge of the cliff, watching silently. She'd seen him push himself to near collapse every day, yet his spirit never faltered. This version of Razor — calm, relentless, determined — was far from the wild fighter she'd first met.
"Still shaking the mountains," she called, voice half teasing, half worried.
Razor cracked a faint grin. "You know what they say — improvement through destruction."
She folded her arms. "You'll destroy yourself before you improve at this rate."
He grinned, but his body finally gave out. The golden aura snapped away, and he fell to one knee, breathing heavily. His hair turned black again, the teal in his eyes fading back to onyx calm.
"I lasted longer this time," he murmured, catching his breath.
18 tossed him a capsule bottle of water. "And nearly blew up another cliff."
He took it, smiling. "Progress comes in many forms."
Afternoon: The Spar
When the sun reached its peak, they faced each other again — as warriors testing their limits.
Razor stood in his base form, sweat glistening under the heavy light. 18 adjusted her posture, her expression confident but amused.
"No transformations?" she asked.
"I don't need them to beat you," he replied with a smirk.
She scoffed. "Big words for someone who loses half the time."
"Half?" he teased. "You've been keeping score wrong."
Their battle began in an instant. Razor dashed forward; 18 blocked, countering with mechanical precision. Each impact cracked the ground, the sound of their blows echoing through the forested canyon below. Razor fought with instinct, raw and adaptive, while 18 moved with perfect timing — the elegance of an android and the heart of a fighter.
He caught her kick, twisted, and launched her skyward — but she used the momentum, flipping mid-air and firing a controlled ki blast that exploded beside him.
When the dust cleared, Razor stood unfazed. "You fight dirtier every day."
"I fight smarter," she corrected, landing gracefully. "That's what happens when you spar with a maniac."
He chuckled, brushing dust from his shoulder. "Guess that makes you my favorite maniac, then."
Her eyes softened for a brief moment before she lunged again, forcing him to focus. Their battle continued until both dropped to the ground, breathing hard, gazing at the endless sky above.
Razor turned his head slightly toward her. "You ever think we've been here too long?"
She smiled faintly. "Maybe. But I think you needed this."
He raised an eyebrow. "Needed?"
18 looked up at the drifting clouds. "A place where no one's watching. No enemies, no pride, no wars. Just… time to understand yourself."
Razor was quiet for a while. Then he nodded. "Maybe I did."
Evening: The Quiet Between Them
As the sun sank behind the mountains, the two sat on a ledge overlooking the crimson horizon. The wind had cooled, carrying the faint scent of the planet's wild vegetation.
Razor had been experimenting with something new — channeling bursts of energy instead of maintaining constant flow. Every swing, every movement, charged only in short, explosive pulses.
He clenched his fist, letting a faint golden flicker dance across his skin. "The key isn't to hold power," he murmured, "it's to release it only when needed. Like a blade that only shines when drawn. Maybe I can use this on Super Saiyan 3 to maintain it far longer than I could now"
18 nodded slowly. "So, your Super Saiyan 3…?"
"It'll drain less. Controlled bursts. I can hold the form for hours if needed."
"That's impressive," she admitted. "You've come a long way from collapsing after minutes."
He laughed quietly. "You counted?"
"I counted," she teased.
They sat in silence, the evening light painting their faces gold. Razor's once chaotic energy was now calm — fierce but contained, like a tamed storm. 18 turned to him, watching his expression soften as he looked over the landscape.
"Razor," she said gently. "You've changed."
He looked at her. "Changed?"
"When I first met you, you lived only for battle. You didn't care about anything else. But now…" She hesitated, eyes lowering for a second. "You listen."
He blinked, caught off guard. "You make it sound like I'm going soft."
She smiled, almost shyly. "Maybe you are."
Razor laughed under his breath. "Guess that's your fault."
Her eyes widened for a moment before a small, warm smile crossed her lips. "I'll take the blame."
The night deepened, and stars began to scatter across the sky. Razor glanced upward. "Tomorrow, we leave."
18 nodded. "Yeah… Earth."
He turned toward her. "You really want to see them again?"
"My brother. My friends." She smiled faintly, eyes reflecting the starlight. "They're my family. But…" She paused, her voice softening to a whisper, "I guess you are too."
Razor froze. The words hung in the cool night air, quiet and fragile. She didn't repeat them — just looked away, pretending she hadn't said anything. But he'd heard it.
He didn't respond, only smiled faintly as he looked back at the stars.
Elsewhere — The Conqueror's Command
Across the galaxies, in the heart of the war, the fortress-ship of Duragon the Conqueror drifted over a dying world.
Inside the vast throne chamber, three warriors knelt before the towering red-skinned lord. His two horns gleamed under the crimson light, and the greatsword by his side hummed with restrained power.
Duragon leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee. "Tirax is dead," he said, his deep voice calm but heavy. "One of my four generals, slain."
The kneeling soldiers — Korvus, Veyra, and Myra — bowed their heads lower.
Korvus, the largest of them, spoke first. "By whose hand, my lord?"
"A Saiyan," Duragon answered, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. "Curious, isn't it? The weak rise when the mighty fall."
Myra hissed, "Shall we hunt him down?"
Duragon chuckled softly. "Not yet. Patience." He stood, his massive form casting a shadow across the hall. "For now, end this war. Bring me victory. Then, we'll turn our gaze to this… anomaly."
The three generals bowed again, their voices unified. "By your command."
As they departed, Duragon's gaze lingered on the holographic projection of a distant star system. His expression darkened, a cruel smile spreading slowly.
"A Saiyan strong enough to kill Tirax…" he murmured. "If such strength exists again in this universe… perhaps it's time I see it for myself."
The war drums of the Conqueror's fleet echoed through the void — a prelude to the storm that would soon sweep across the stars.