The hall was endless.
Stone and steel stretched in every direction, walls echoing his movements like the heartbeat of some slumbering titan.
**Thud.** His foot landed. The ground answered.
Broly did not speak. He never needed to. Words were fragile things, breaking too easily in his throat. He had only thoughts. Thoughts and fists.
His eyes, green and dimly glowing, stared straight ahead. The air around him was still, suffocating, yet his body radiated heat like a living furnace. His hands flexed, knuckles cracking with a sound that rolled through the empty corridor.
*Fight.*
That was the word that kept repeating in his head. Over and over. Like a drumbeat he could not silence.
Vegito.
The fusion who had stolen whispers of Kakarot and the Prince, the one they said fought monsters that could bend reality itself. Broly's lip twitched. He could almost taste the fight, the shock of knuckles meeting knuckles, the ground breaking beneath their feet.
Goku.
Always Goku. The one who haunted him. The name that split his mind open like lightning. The face that turned his blood to fire. But here, there was not one Goku — there were *many*. Different timelines, different choices, different scars. Each one a reminder that fate itself wanted Broly to hunt him.
And then… the other Kakarot.
The one who never softened. The one who killed without hesitation. From the Saiyan Empire. Broly could feel him even now, a shadow waiting across the arena. A Kakarot without restraint. A Kakarot without chains.
His breathing quickened, though his face betrayed nothing.
This tournament…
It was what he had been waiting for.
For years — no, for decades — he had drifted, a weapon without war, a beast caged in silence. His father's voice still echoed sometimes in the corners of his skull, commanding, controlling, reminding him that his existence was a mistake that had to be shackled. The scar around his neck seemed to pulse with the memory of that cursed device.
But the father was gone. The cage was gone. And still the hunger remained.
Broly remembered the emptiness of those years after breaking free — no battles worthy of him, no challengers strong enough to make his blood sing. Planets fell too easily. Armies crumbled in minutes.
The night of Planet Vegeta's silence was not remembered for celebration. It was remembered for a single cry.
Through the nursery halls of the Saiyan birthing pods, the wails of newborns rang — but one cry rose above them all. It was deeper, louder, like the earth itself was being split by an infant's voice. The attendants exchanged looks, uneasy. That was not the cry of hunger. That was fury.
The name given was Broly. His tiny fists flailed, his eyes wide, glowing faintly green when no other child's did. Next to him, in a separate pod, another infant shrieked endlessly. Kakarot.
Broly's body jerked with every cry Kakarot made, as if some invisible chain connected their souls. His rage swelled with every echo of the other child's scream. And then… the readings came.
Ten thousand.
That was the scouter's reading. An impossible number for a newborn, higher than battle-hardened warriors.
King Vegeta's face twisted with something between awe and disgust. "A mutant," he spat. "An abomination." Power was meant for royalty, not for some low-class wretch born to a soldier nobody would remember.
The order came swift. Broly was stabbed through the chest, a blade piercing his infant flesh. His pod was hurled into the void with his father, Paragus, banished to die in some forgotten corner of the galaxy.
But Broly did not die.
The wound closed, flesh knitting by a will not his own. His heartbeat grew stronger, not weaker. His cry never stopped, echoing in the tiny pod as stars streaked by.
When they landed, the planet was barren, jagged mountains and acidic seas. Paragus staggered out, carrying his child. Broly's eyes opened wide at the alien sky. He was alive. Too alive.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks to months. Paragus hunted, killed, and scavenged what he could. But Broly… Broly changed.
By the time he could walk, he could kill. Small animals first, then larger ones. He did not eat them. He destroyed them. Torn apart by his bare hands, shredded by bursts of green light he could not understand.
The boy laughed as he killed. Not with joy. Not with cruelty. But with something primal, unshaped — like a storm laughing as it tears down forests.
Paragus watched in awe and horror.
But when the boy grew older, his destruction widened. Villages burned. Whole tribes slaughtered. The air filled with ash and blood.
And when he tired, he turned on his father.
Paragus still remembered the first time. Broly's tiny hand, no larger than a child's toy, clenched his throat and slammed him into the dirt. The boy's eyes glowed, and for a moment Paragus thought his son would snap his neck. Only exhaustion stopped him.
That was when Paragus began to build.
A device forged from scraps of Saiyan tech, powered by crystals pulled from the planet's molten core. A collar. A shackle. A leash. It was tuned not to dampen Broly's energy, but to reflect it inward. Every surge of rage would circle back, striking his nerves with unbearable pain.
The day it was fitted, Broly screamed louder than ever before. The mountains shook. The seas boiled. But he stopped. For the first time, the beast stopped.
Paragus dropped to his knees, tears burning in his eyes. Not from pity. Not from guilt. But from triumph.
He had caged the storm.
And with a cage, it could be directed.
The years bled together.
Wherever they landed, Broly became both sword and bomb. Worlds trembled beneath his feet. Armies were slaughtered before they could even fire a shot.
But he did not understand why. He only knew blood, only knew his father's orders, only knew the shocks of the collar when he disobeyed.
And when his father's voice cracked through the transmitter — "Calm yourself, Broly!" — he obeyed. He always obeyed.
Still, inside, something grew. Something too vast to cage forever.
He would sit in silence sometimes, staring at the stars, his hands shaking as if the galaxies themselves whispered his name. There was more. There had to be more.
And then… fate turned.
News reached Paragus that the Saiyan race had been erased. That Frieza, the emperor they once served, had burned Planet Vegeta to ash. That Kakarot, the wailing child, had somehow survived.
The word Kakarot made Broly twitch even then. His teeth ground. His fists clenched. The collar pulsed to restrain him. But his rage was bottomless, endless, and not even Paragus' leash could fully control it.
Paragus smiled through his fear. This was it. This was destiny.
They would return.They would find Kakarot.And Broly would unleash everything he was born to be.
Years later, they came to a distant world.And there, among the ruins of fate, Broly met Goku.
The cry he had heard at birth became flesh before him. The name that chained his blood set his mind ablaze. The cage broke.
Goku staggered, chest heaving, golden hair whipping under the storm of ki. His aura flared desperately, but his fists throbbed, bruised and bloodied from striking something that did not break.
Broly stood in front of him, towering, his eyes void of reason, glowing green with bottomless fury. His lips curled into a half-snarl, half-grin. The collar around his neck sparked wildly, Paragus screaming into the control stick from the shadows.
"Obey me, Broly! Stand down!"
But Broly did not stand down.
He lunged.
Goku's body folded under a single punch, the air blasting from his lungs as he was hurled through a mountain. The rock split, crumbled, and dissolved into dust around the hole his body made. He clawed free, coughing blood, only to see the monster already in front of him, waiting.
"How—how are you this strong?!" Goku wheezed, fists rising, voice strained.
Broly tilted his head, eyes narrowing with animal calm. And then he spoke, the word rumbling out like a death sentence:
"Kakarot."
The sound made Goku's bones lock. His body moved instinctively, launching forward with fists blazing gold. The two collided, shockwaves rattling the ground, but Goku's blows only glanced off Broly's body. Each strike that should have staggered a god only rocked the giant slightly, as though swatting away a child's tantrum.
Broly answered with his own fist, slamming down across Goku's back. The earth cratered, splitting open in waves.
Gohan and Trunks leapt forward, both Super Saiyan, both blazing with fury. "Dad!" "Kakarot!"
Broly's hand lashed out casually. Two bodies caught, two necks crushed in his grasp. He swung them like ragdolls, their golden auras dimming as they smashed into the ruins. They coughed blood but struggled to rise, defiance etched in their eyes.
And then Piccolo was there — cape shredded, fangs bared, his green fists flaring with ki. He shouted a war cry, launching a hellstorm of blasts. The sky itself burned, the land melting under the barrage.
When the smoke cleared, Broly stood untouched.
Piccolo's eyes widened. "Impossible…"
The monster smirked, the sound of his teeth grinding louder than thunder.
And then his body convulsed.
It began in his jaw, his bones snapping, stretching. He shattered his own mandible in a grotesque crack, flesh splitting — but there was no pain. Only ecstasy. His chest bulged, muscle ripping through his flesh before it knitted anew. His frame grew taller, wider, the veins across his arms glowing like molten fire.
And his hair — his hair erupted upward, spikes of molten emerald piercing the sky.
The aura followed, green flame consuming the battlefield, twisting the dimension itself. Space rippled like water, mountains melting, stars shuddering in the void.
He was becoming something else. Something forbidden.
"The—Legendary… Super Saiyan…" Vegeta whispered, his voice choked with awe and terror. His knees buckled. For the first time, the proud prince could not move, could not speak. He could only kneel.
Broly roared.
The roar was not sound. It was a catastrophe. The planet's core trembled, animals thousands of miles away dropped dead, the light of distant stars flickered.
He stepped forward, and the entire dimension bent around him.
Goku charged again, reckless, his aura a desperate blaze. His fist met Broly's chest — and stopped. The blow sank into muscle that might as well have been steel.
Broly looked down at the fist, then up at Goku, eyes gleaming. He tilted his head… and drove his forehead into Goku's skull. The crack echoed across the valley as Goku crumpled, blood spraying.
Trunks screamed, lunging with a sword of golden ki. Broly caught the blade barehanded, his palm burning but unbroken. With a flick, the weapon shattered. His backhand smashed Trunks into the dirt, ribs breaking in an audible crack.
Piccolo struck from above, Special Beam Cannon tearing through the sky. The beam landed true, searing through Broly's shoulder. For a moment, hope lit his face.
Then Broly laughed.
The wound closed before Piccolo's eyes. Flesh knitted, muscle reformed, and Broly grinned, a predator playing with prey. His hand shot up, gripping Piccolo's head. With a squeeze, the Namekian's scream tore the night as he was slammed into the ground hard enough to crater a canyon.
Gohan, bloodied, dragged himself forward, aura sputtering but burning bright. "I won't… give up!"
Broly's fist descended, hammering Gohan into the earth. His aura flickered out like a candle.
Vegeta, trembling, forced his legs to move. His pride screamed, drowning out his terror. He flared his ki, body bulking, muscles swelling grotesquely. Grade 3 Super Saiyan.
For a moment, his power swelled, shockwaves rattling the ground. He roared, a titan of gold charging the emerald god.
He landed a punch. Another. Another. Each blow shook Broly's head, forced his massive frame to step back. For a heartbeat, hope returned.
And then… Vegeta slowed. His swollen form drained his speed, his body sluggish, exhausted after only moments.
Broly smiled.
He caught Vegeta's fist, bones snapping like twigs under his grip. With his other hand, he slammed into Vegeta's gut. The prince spat blood, his scream silenced by Broly's backhand smashing him through a mountain.
The hope died.
Broly stood tall, green flames rising around him like the birth of a new sun. Every Z-Warrior lay broken, beaten, barely breathing at his feet.
He looked down at them, tilting his head like a curious animal.
And then, softly, almost tenderly, he whispered the only word that mattered:
"Kakarot."
The battlefield was ruin. Mountains shattered, seas boiled, and the very air shook with Broly's laughter.
The Z-Warriors lay scattered like broken dolls. Gohan's leg bent at a sickening angle, his golden hair dim. Trunks crawled on his knees, sword splintered, his every breath a sob. Piccolo dragged himself from a crater, blood soaking his gi. Vegeta knelt in silence, body trembling, pride broken.
And Goku…
He staggered to his feet, arms trembling as he pulled what little energy he could. "I can't… lose. Not here…" His voice cracked, but his aura flared. Golden light flickered around him. He reached out across the void, calling his friends.
"Please… lend me your strength!"
One by one, the broken warriors responded. Gohan, coughing blood, placed a trembling hand to the sky. "Dad… take it…" Trunks, lips split and swollen, raised his palm weakly. Piccolo gritted his teeth, forcing his arm to rise. Even Vegeta, his pride shattered, gave what little ki he had left.
Their energy funneled into Goku. His aura grew brighter, golden sparks crackling, flames of power surging around him. For the first time, Broly's grin faltered, eyes narrowing.
Goku screamed, the ground trembling under the rising storm of his spirit. His hair blazed, his eyes sharpened. He was close — so close.
But Broly… Broly moved.
In a blur of emerald light, the titan crossed the battlefield, faster than the eye could follow. His fist speared into Goku's gut before the power could reach its peak.
The sound was like flesh tearing, bones snapping. Goku's scream choked into a wet gasp, his mouth spilling blood in a crimson torrent. His body folded around the strike, eyes bulging as he struggled for breath.
"K… Ka…" he wheezed, but no more came.
Broly leaned closer, his smile wide, his voice soft, mocking. "Kakarot."
He ripped his fist free, letting Goku crumple to the ground, twitching, aura snuffed out.
The other warriors cried out, horror painted on their battered faces. Gohan dragged himself forward, fury and grief burning in his one good eye. "No! Father!"
Broly didn't even look. His hand rose, glowing with green fire.
The ground cracked. Energy surged. A ball of writhing emerald light expanded in his palm until it blotted out the sky. Its weight warped the very air, its roar deafened the land.
He didn't aim at them. Not specifically.
He aimed at everything.
The sphere dropped, slamming into the earth like judgment.
The planet screamed.
Mountains disintegrated. Oceans vaporized. Cities vanished in white fire. Every living thing — every bird, every animal, every human clinging to hope — was obliterated in a flash. The crust peeled away, molten rivers flooding upward, swallowed by the expanding storm.
The Z-Warriors didn't even have time to cry out. Their broken bodies were swallowed in the blaze. Gohan's defiance. Trunks' desperation. Piccolo's resolve. Vegeta's last shred of pride. All gone in the emerald inferno.
The planet cracked in two, then four, then a thousand.
And then… silence.
The explosion echoed into the void. Shards of Earth drifted into space, glowing with the fire of their death. Oceans became steam. Forests became ash. Civilization became dust.
There was no Earth anymore.
And in the heart of the destruction… Broly floated.
His chest rose and fell, unlabored. His muscles gleamed with light. The flames of his aura licked the void. The explosion that should have killed gods barely ruffled his stance.
He looked around at the nothingness. No cries. No enemies. No Kakarot.
His grin widened.