Taro stepped into the data center hall of Planet Vegeta, where a handful of Saiyans clad in Freeza Force battle suits were scattered about.
At the same time, the microchip, still clinging to the ceiling, silently followed him inside, advancing as he moved.
The chip was too small to be detected—not just by the naked eye, but even by the surveillance cameras in the hall.
The room wasn't crowded, but it wasn't empty either. Without shifting his gaze, Taro took in every movement in the hall. Soon, he found an opening and zeroed in on an alien seated at a control console. He walked straight over, claiming he was there to submit a mission report.
The alien tapped a few buttons, then looked up in confusion. "Lord Burely, your squadmates already submitted the mission details during your recovery period… but…" He hesitated. "King Vegeta left specific instructions. If you inquired about this matter, he wanted you to see him personally. It seems he has questions for you."
Taro nodded. "Probably wants to know how I survived."
"Ah… perhaps." The alien wiped sweat from his brow, forcing a nervous chuckle.
At that moment—completely unnoticed—the microchip, guided by Taro's telekinesis, slipped into the machine in front of the alien.
[...Accessing system...]
[...Analyzing language data, translating...]
[...Processing...]
[...Processing complete. Entering newborn registration database...]
[...Priority target: Low-class warrior Kakarot. Father: Low-class warrior Bardock...]
[...No records found...]
[...Accessing single-pod deployment database. Preparing real-time monitoring...]
[...Priority target: Low-class warrior Kakarot. Pod usage records...]
[...No records found...]
Inside Taro's ear, a miniature earpiece relayed Jarvis's synthetic voice, delivering a rapid stream of system updates.
The microchip, of course, was Hathaway's invention. As for how it maintained real-time communication with Jarvis—light-years away on Earth—Taro had no idea. Some kind of black-box tech, most likely. Then again, this was a universe where Capsule Corp's spatial compression already existed.
Taro didn't believe in something as flimsy as "plot inertia." If he wanted to ensure he'd meet the Son Goku he remembered, he couldn't just sit around on Earth waiting like an idiot.
The Milky Way was vast, filled with countless planets untouched by Freeza's forces—many of them weak enough to be viable dumping grounds for an infant Saiyan.
Who could guarantee Kakarot would definitely be sent to Earth?
Taro wasn't about to leave that to blind faith.
So he came to personally guarantee it.
---
"In that case, issue me a pass to the royal palace."
Taro's tone was indifferent. He had no particular impression of King Vegeta—the man had barely any "screen time" in the original story. But since Kakarot hadn't been born yet, and he had months to kill, meeting the father of the future prince wouldn't hurt.
"Understood, Lord Burely."
The alien nodded, typing rapidly into the console—likely filling out some kind of form. Then he excused himself, asking Taro to wait while he retrieved the palace access pass.
With a structured hierarchy in place, King Vegeta wasn't someone just anyone could meet on a whim.
Other Saiyans in the hall had taken notice of Taro's presence, but most simply observed coldly, whispering among themselves. No doubt discussing "Burely's" power level. Every warrior there had already scanned him with their scouters—and every one had seen the same result:
Power Level: 100.
A worthless cripple.
No point associating with trash like that.
Even members of Burely's former squad watched from the crowd before turning away indifferently. Not a single one approached him.
If he's fallen this far, he's no longer our captain.
And that means he's nothing to us.
Though Taro's gaze remained unmoving, his formidable mental perception took in every reaction around him. He couldn't care less about the opinions of these insignificant Saiyan bystanders—if anything, their attitude just gave him one more reason not to interfere.
Freeza... as a reward for exterminating this wretched race, I'll let you live a little longer before killing you.
A thought crossed Taro's mind—back on Namek, the Grand Elder had once prophesied: "Taro will lead a group of exceptional warriors to save Namek from a great calamity."
Heh... even now, am I really going to leave Freeza alive until then?
Taro's eyes flickered as his thoughts raced.
Then again... the "great calamity" the Grand Elder spoke of might not necessarily be Freeza.
At that moment, the alien attendant returned, holding out a pass. "Lord Burely, please take this permit. The royal guards will direct you to King Vegeta's location—"
"Mm."
Taro took it with a nod and casually tucked it into his robes—which, of course, were magically conjured.
As he made his way toward the exit, a group of Saiyan warriors blocked his path. They likely weren't deliberately trying to provoke him, but the hall's exit was narrow, forcing everyone to converge.
In the past, as an elite warrior, Burely's mere presence would have made lower and mid-class warriors instinctively step aside.
But now?
With a power level of just 100, who would give him any respect?
Now, it should be Burely making way for them.
Yet Taro didn't slow his steps. He walked as if the obstructing crowd didn't exist.
"Heh, Burely's in for it now..."
"Doroba's got a power level over 3,000. There's no way Burely can handle him now."
"Think he'll get beaten to death? Hah!"
The surrounding Saiyans watched with amusement, eager to see the "has-been" get what he deserved.
Sure enough, the hulking Saiyan Doroba, standing directly in Taro's path, grinned savagely as Burely strode toward him.
"Tch. Burely—"
WHOOSH.
He vanished.
Taro's expression didn't change. His footsteps didn't falter. Not even his rhythm broke.
He simply kept walking.
Doroba, who had been reaching out to grab him mid-sentence, was already gone.