With Broly's return, good days finally came to Planet Vampa.
Real, tasty food moved Paragus to tears.
"Damn Vampa spiders—never appear on my menu again!"
He was so excited he hurled the spiders he had painstakingly hunted off into the distant sky.
Happy days flew by, and in no time more than half a month had passed.
When Broly noticed he only had twenty thousand Happiness Points left, Paragus realized how serious things were.
"Broly, how long until you can go to another world again to look for wives?"
Sipping his happy water, Paragus asked.
"According to the Crystal Palace, if we just wait for spacetime energy to charge naturally, it'll take five years."
Broly answered honestly.
"Five years… Isn't there any better way?"
"There is. By moving. I can speed up energy collection with 'movement charging.' Every one light‑year of distance I travel increases the spacetime energy by one year's worth. That's what the Crystal Palace says."
"One light‑year?"
Paragus froze.
"Can you do it in a spaceship?"
He asked.
"No. It has to be my body directly touching and moving through space. That's the only thing that counts."
Broly replied.
Paragus was speechless. Good thing they did not have a spaceship in the first place, or he would have been even more disappointed.
"Father, is one light‑year really that far?"
Broly asked. He could feel how fast the points were dropping.
Saiyan appetites far exceeded those of humans. Even if the cost in points per meal was not huge, two Saiyans eating without restraint drained the balance quickly.
"One light‑year is very far. Without a spaceship, no Saiyan could cover that distance in a lifetime with his body alone."
In Paragus's mind, the strongest Saiyan had always been King Vegeta. But could King Vegeta, using only his body, travel one light‑year?
Obviously not. They might be Saiyans, but Saiyans were still people, and people had limits.
Measured in light‑years, even they were insignificant.
"The Crystal Palace says this feature can be upgraded with Happiness Points. Every upgrade cuts the required distance in half."
Triggered by Paragus's question, the Crystal Palace gave a detailed explanation of the "movement charging" module. Broly repeated the information.
"Eh, you can halve it?"
Paragus brightened, then cooled again as he remembered they were starting from light‑years.
"Doesn't help much. Half of that is still impossibly far."
"You can keep upgrading. Each upgrade halves it again."
Broly went on.
"Ah, that kind of halving."
Paragus rubbed his chin.
"How do the upgrade costs work?"
"First time is 1 point. Second time is 10. Third time is 100. Fourth time…"
"Powers of ten, so 10 to the (N‑1)? With your current total, you can only upgrade about five times at most. That takes one light‑year down to one‑sixteenth of a light‑year.
"That doesn't sound totally unreachable anymore, but it's still a terrifying distance."
After some thought, Paragus spoke to his son.
"Broly, upgrade the feature. If we never leave Vampa, then your Crystal Palace is our only hope of living well here. The earlier we strengthen things like this, the greater the return."
Broly's math was not great, but "shorter distance means faster charging" was clearly correct. He followed his father's advice and spent half his remaining twenty‑odd thousand points to upgrade the "movement charging" function.
[Movement Charging]: Run, host, run. Time flies like an arrow. When your speed is great enough, you will catch up to time.
[Currently, every one‑sixteenth light‑year moved will charge the spacetime energy bar with one year's worth of spacetime energy. Current energy charge progress: 0/5. (Note: You do not have to complete a full one‑sixteenth light‑year for it to settle. Any physical movement through space speeds up spacetime energy absorption.)]
"Tomorrow I'll go get some Baya blood. You can trade Baya blood and Vampa spiders for more spider eggs."
Paragus said suddenly.
From frugality to luxury is easy; from luxury back to frugality is hard. That was the situation now. Father and son had to abandon their overly lavish life of stuffing themselves with normal food.
"Of course, from now on, anything you redeem, you eat yourself."
He added, a little afraid the boy would throw a fit.
"Let's still share."
But Broly did not get angry. Halfway through his katsudon, he pushed the container over to Paragus.
"I'm going to charge."
Leaving that behind, the boy ran out and shot into the distant sky.
In the cave, looking at the half‑finished rice bowl his son had left him, Paragus felt something stir inside.
His feelings were complicated. Saiyan family bonds were not usually strong. Brutal and selfish, they were used to snatching spoils—even from kin. Sharing good things, even with family, was rare behavior.
For the first time, Paragus felt glad that his son had always been a little different, that early "traditional Saiyan" education had not turned him into a typical Saiyan child.
At that moment, the old‑school Saiyan father finally experienced something like familial affection. Nearly killing his own son two years ago now seemed far less straightforward.
…
On Vampa, as long as there was no sandstorm, the night sky was clear and beautiful. With no clouds to block them, the stars poured their light down on the barren world. Broly raced through that starlit night, aura blazing, covering distance.
He had no idea how long he flew. Only when he grew tired and hungry did he land on a mountaintop to rest.
Just then, in the pre‑dawn sky, a blue streak flashed by—the ship carrying the Saiyan child named Kakarot skimmed past Vampa's atmosphere and sped toward this universe's Earth.
In the days that followed, Broly settled into a plain routine: trade for spider eggs, eat his fill, then charge energy through movement until exhausted, finally returning to the cave to rest.
Vampa spider eggs tasted as awful as ever. The rare meals of normal food he redeemed and shared with his father became what he looked forward to most.
As for why he did not eat everything alone, Broly had never thought deeply about it. It just felt like the right thing.
Just like in the Nasuverse, whenever a wife had food, she would share with him. So he was happy to share with those around him.
…
Time rolled forward to Age 739. At the edge of Vampa's atmosphere, a teal figure streaked around the planet, flying at terrifying speed, circling it again and again in no time.
[Spacetime energy full. Cross over now?]
As the long‑silent Crystal Palace displayed that prompt again, the teal blur came to a halt.
Seven‑year‑old Broly was half a head taller than he had been at five. A green skirt of Baya fur hung at his waist, and he was back to looking like a little wild child.
"Huff… huff…"
Panting in the thin air at the edge of the atmosphere, faint threads of gold faded from the depths of his eyes.
Over the past two years, he had driven himself faster and faster, pushing his speed limits every single day.
After two hard years—nearly three—he had finally filled the Crystal Palace's spacetime energy bar. Looking at the remaining 18 points from wives still in happy states slowly trickling in, Broly felt his eyes sting.
At last, he could set out for another world and earn more points.
But before leaving, he had to tell his father.
He dropped altitude quickly. He had only flown this high to push his speed.
Soon, he found Paragus at the lip of a Baya beast pit.
The Saiyan father was weaving clothes for his son from Baya fur.
Life on Vampa was harsh, and he could not bear to have his son waste Happiness Points on anything but food, so things like clothing had to be made from local materials.
In seven years, the Saiyan father had taught himself how to make fur garments. They were not very sturdy, but for Vampa they were a decent specialty: handmade pelts.
"Eh, Broly, are you taking a break today?"
Seeing his son, Paragus asked.
"Not a break. Enough."
Because he had spent so much time flying and charging, Broly had spoken very little in the past two years. His pronunciation now sounded a bit rusty.
"Enough?"
Paragus froze, then his face lit up.
He yanked too hard and tore the half‑finished pelt in his hands.
"Clothes."
Broly reminded him, but Paragus waved it off.
"Forget clothes. Broly, this time you go to another world, you need to find wives properly. As many as you can.
"And don't forget to raise their Happiness Values. Anyone who dares get in the way of your wife‑hunting or making your wives happy—don't hesitate. Kill them all…"
Only he knew how long he had waited for this moment, and how much time he had spent in that wait working out how his son could maximize his Happiness gains.
"Remember, Broly, when you meet a wife, don't rush to invite her into the Crystal Palace. First push her Happiness Value as high as you can, and only when your return time is almost up should you invite her in."
"Mm."
Broly listened and nodded seriously.
"Of course, if you run into enemies you truly can't beat, your life comes first. Worst case, you come back here and chew spider legs for a few years."
No one knew what awaited in other worlds. Paragus passed on everything he had learned from visiting dangerous, unfamiliar planets.
The core of that experience: a Saiyan can bend and stretch. Running from an unwinnable fight is no disgrace.
"Got it."
Broly agreed outwardly, but inside he had no intention of eating spider legs again.
No matter how strong the enemy, he would fight them to the end.
With that thought in mind, he used his last points to leave his father a full katsudon as a parting gift, then chose to cross over.
…
At the edge of the Gifnora Seatre Forest, imperial soldiers drove a group of children off the transport vehicles—slaves bought from traffickers.
Each child was given a small knife. Then an officer stepped up onto a makeshift platform of stacked crates and shouted down at the thin, sallow kids.
"Want to eat your fill? Want to live? You can have both here.
"See that forest? If you can make it through alive and reach the clearing in the center, you'll get food and you'll get to live."
The children followed his pointing finger. Though it was broad daylight, the forest lay in dim shadow.
Beastly roars echoed from within, drawing fear to many faces. Some kids even burst into tears.
Most of the criers were those who had barely felt a slaver's whip before being shipped here.
"Now, you can go."
The officer ignored their tears and gave the order.
"No, that's the sound of danger beasts. I've heard it. I won't go in. I want to go home."
An older boy bolted away from the forest in panic.
Bang.
A gunshot cracked, and a blossom of blood erupted from his back. He pitched forward onto the ground.
He screamed in pain but still lived. The officer who'd fired jumped down from the platform and walked over.
"How stupid. In the forest you might at least gamble on avoiding danger beasts."
He drew the sword at his hip and, without hesitation, lopped off the boy's head.
"I'll give you a quarter of an hour. After that, anyone still standing here dies."
"Sis…"
In the crowd, a little girl clung to an older one.
"Don't be scared, Kurome. Big sister will protect you."
Akame took her sister's hand. With that reassurance, she followed the current into the trees.
They had not gone far when a serpentine danger beast dropped from a branch and swallowed a child ahead of them in one bite.
The kids who'd been moving together shrieked and scattered. In a forest crawling with danger beasts, they quickly lost each other.
Akame gripped her sister's hand and headed for wherever looked even slightly safer.
…
At the forest's center, imperial troops were clearing the corpses of danger beasts. On a high cliff nearby, a bald man watched the now‑frequent roars from the woods and called back to the man lounging on a rock behind him.
"Gozzi, how many kids do you think will pass this time?"
"Who knows? But if we toss a few hundred brats in, there ought to be at least a handful with enough talent—and luck—to make it out."
The long‑haired man—Gozzi—chewed on a blade of grass, completely unconcerned.
And he was unconcerned. Those children were just expendables.
"By the way, Gozzi, how many can you train at once?"
"Let me think… Seven. I can handle seven."
"All right. I'll leave the seven best to you. Any others who get out are mine."
"Bill, you really think a bunch of kids trained as assassins are going to be useful someday?"
Gozzi asked suddenly.
"The empire right now is like a dry field on fire—smoke everywhere and no one sure who the real enemies are.
"But if we have assassins to put the fires out, they ought to be of some use."
The bald man, Bill, answered.
"Still, at their age, it'll take at least seven or eight years to turn them into anything useful. The empire might not even exist by then."
"Haha, Gozzi, you worry too much. The empire's lasted a thousand years, no matter how rotten it is. It's not going to just collapse in a few years, is it?"
"Let's hope not."
Spitting out the grass, Gozzi drew his blade and turned.
A bird‑type danger beast that had swooped down from the sky to make him prey was split in two, claws and all, by the demon blade in his hand.
"As expected of someone from the Four Rakshasa Demons."
Bill offered a word of praise.
__________
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