"No confidence in his own bloodline, huh?" It seemed Bardock still had some psychological hang-ups about being a low-class warrior. No wonder he discarded Kakarot for being 'weak as trash'.
Taro immediately lost interest in the father and son. This must be the disappointment of seeing an ideal shattered by reality. He had once held a decent impression of Bardock, but now, after meeting him in person… the man was no different from any other Saiyan warrior.
He was just as battle-hungry, just as ruthless, treating a warrior's honor—measured solely by power level—as the only thing that mattered.
Sure, he might have some redeeming qualities, like his protective instincts toward the Saiyan race… but he had also slaughtered countless other alien races who held the same beliefs. In a way, most Saiyans on this planet weren't much different from Freeza, who would wipe them all out in half a year.
From a certain perspective, Freeza destroying this planet and its people might not be such a bad thing.
"Then I suppose we have nothing more to discuss…" Taro's tone turned flat. He turned and walked away, just as decisively as when he had sought Bardock out. Whether Bardock was truly different from what he assumed, or whether he was being unfairly judged—none of that mattered.
Ironically, Bardock respected this kind of no-nonsense attitude.
As Taro left, Raditz tugged at his father's scouter and asked, "Dad… can I become as strong as you one day?"
"You're a low-class warrior," Bardock corrected coldly, walking past him without a glance. "Whether you get stronger depends on how much you're willing to push yourself. Asking me won't help, Raditz."
The young Raditz only half-understood. He glanced back in the direction Taro had gone.
'How pathetic… losing an elite warrior's power level. He might as well be dead.'
---
Of course, Taro was unaware of Raditz's pity. He moved alone toward the Saiyan royal palace—the planet Vegeta's technological and administrative hub.
Here, all mission records were stored, communications with Freeza's headquarters were handled, and King Vegeta himself conducted business. The palace stood directly in front of the royal family's private quarters.
News of "Burely's" crippled power level hadn't fully spread yet. Even those who had heard rumors were skeptical. So as Taro walked through the halls, some still regarded him with their usual reverence, while others shot him doubtful, uneasy glances.
Taro ignored them all. He strode through the sleek, high-tech corridors, turned a corner, and—with a flick of his wrist—produced a slender object between his fingers.
It was a tiny cylinder, less than a centimeter in diameter, with a button on top.
On present-day Earth, this was called a "Capsule".
Click.
Taro pressed the button, then expanded his fingers slightly. A miniature ki barrier formed in his palm, encasing the capsule. The puff of smoke from its activation was contained within the barrier. Once the smoke cleared, Taro pocketed the empty capsule.
On his fingertip now rested a tiny microchip.
With a flick of his telekinetic will, the chip zipped from his finger, vanishing into the ceiling above, clinging to the surface.
The entire process—turning the corner, activating the capsule, and planting the chip—had taken mere seconds, executed flawlessly.
Taro continued toward the data center's main hall. Above him, the microchip moved along the ceiling, mirroring his path.
Then, as he walked, a group approached from the opposite end of the corridor.
The moment Taro saw the small figure leading them, even he paused in surprise.
It was a young boy—short, with spiky hair, draped in a red cape, arms perpetually crossed. His face was the picture of cold arrogance.
The Saiyan Prince, Vegeta.
Little Vegeta glanced at the man in front of him and recognized him as the disappointment he had once heard about. (The name? Prince Vegeta couldn't be bothered to remember a failure's name.) He didn't even grace Taro with a proper look, striding forward with his two attendant warriors in tow.
By Vegeta's expectations, this obstacle in his path should have scrambled aside in fearful respect.
If he doesn't move… even better. Vegeta wouldn't mind punching the trash out of his way.
Taro didn't step aside.
Almost as if he could read the proud prince's thoughts, he simply smiled.
Vegeta, arms still crossed, strode straight toward the man blocking his path. Seeing that this nobody dared not move aside, the young prince's lips curled into a cruel smirk.
Give me a reason to kill you, trash. Nothing would please me more.
Blocking the prince's path? Your worthless life is a fair price to pay.
"Move—"
Just as Vegeta was about to coldly demand and throw his fist, before the word "aside" could even leave his lips—
WHOOSH!
An unstoppable force slammed into him.
One moment, he was standing there. The next—
BAM!
Vegeta was smashed into the corridor wall, his body crumpling against the metal. His mind blanked.
What… just happened?
Why does my whole body hurt?
This… wasn't how things were supposed to go.
Dazed, he looked up—just in time to see "Burely" walking away without so much as a pause. The man merely glanced back, raising a single finger to his lips in a mocking "shhh" gesture.
Vegeta's face burned with humiliation—and shock.
But the two warrior attendants behind him? They acted as if nothing had happened.
Are they blind?! Or are they just pretending—to save face for their prince?!
Fury boiled in Vegeta's chest. He frantically mashed the buttons on his scouter, aiming it at the retreating figure.
Beep-beep-beep! Beep-beep-beep!
Before he could even get a clear reading, Taro turned a corner and vanished into a hall.
Vegeta seethed, but for once… he didn't dare chase after him.
Damn bastard…!
I'll have Father assign him as my training partner!
I swear—one day, I'll crush you under my boot!
It won't take long. With my genius, you'll soon be left staring at my back!
With these grand ambitions simmering in his heart, Vegeta stormed off, his two attendants following as if nothing had occurred.
---
Hypnotizing a hardened warrior like Bardock might have been difficult—but for Taro, subtly influencing two low-level guards trailing a child prince?
Child's play.
Taro dismissed the encounter as a minor joke. His impression of Vegeta wasn't bad—after all, the prince had turned out decently in the original story.
But was he worth actively nurturing?
Not yet.