The wasteland stretched endlessly in all directions, scarred and barren from the Saiyans' violent arrival. Two massive craters marked where their attack pods had struck the Earth, the metal spheres now smoking ruins half-buried in shattered rock. The air itself seemed to tremble with residual energy.
Vegeta stood at the edge of the larger crater, his arms crossed as he surveyed the desolate landscape with cold satisfaction. His pristine white and blue armor gleamed in the harsh sunlight, unmarked by their journey through space. Beside him, Nappa cracked his knuckles with thunderous pops, each sound echoing across the empty terrain like gunshots.
"This place is even more pathetic than I imagined," Vegeta said, his voice carrying the casual disdain of absolute power. "No wonder Raditz fell here. He probably died of boredom."
Nappa's laugh was a deep rumble that seemed to shake the ground itself. "Come on, Vegeta! Let me find some cities to destroy while we wait. I'm getting restless just standing around."
"Patience." Vegeta's lips curved into a predatory smile. "Our entertainment approaches."
In the distance, five figures appeared against the horizon, moving with purpose across the broken landscape. As they drew closer, their individual forms became distinct—each radiating power that would have been impressive by any other standard.
Piccolo led the group, his weighted cape billowing behind him as he maintained a steady, ground-eating pace. The Namekian's expression was grim, his enhanced hearing having already picked up the Saiyans' casual conversation about planetary destruction.
Beside him, Krillin tried to project confidence despite the cold fear gnawing at his stomach. The modified scouter Bulma had created sat heavily on his face, its readings already climbing as they approached their targets. Tien and Chiaotzu flanked the group's right side, the three-eyed warrior's face set in determined lines while his small companion floated silently nearby.
And at the rear, Sage moved with the fluid precision of a predator, every step calculated and efficient. His dark eyes never stopped scanning their surroundings, fifteen years of paranoid survival instincts screaming warnings that he forced himself to ignore. These were his people—the first living Saiyans he'd encountered since his father's death. The irony that they stood as enemies wasn't lost on him.
"Remember the plan," Piccolo said quietly as they closed the final distance. "We hold them here until Goku arrives. No heroics, no unnecessary risks. We buy time, nothing more."
"Easy for you to say," Krillin muttered, his scouter crackling with readings that made his blood run cold. "These power levels are insane. The bald one is over four thousand, and the short one—"
"Is eighteen thousand," Sage finished grimly. "That's Prince Vegeta. Elite class, royal blood. He's the real threat."
"And the big guy?"
"Nappa. General class, probably around four thousand five hundred. Dangerous, but predictable. He relies on raw power over technique."
Vegeta's enhanced Saiyan hearing caught every word. His smile widened as the group finally came to a stop fifty yards away, the distance seeming both too far and far too close simultaneously.
"Well, well," the prince said, his voice carrying easily across the gap. "Earth's defenders have finally arrived. How... quaint."
His gaze swept across each fighter with calculated assessment before lingering on Sage. Something flickered in those cold black eyes—recognition, surprise, and then cruel amusement.
"And what have we here? A survivor?" Vegeta's tone dropped to mock sympathy. "Tell me, remnant, which rock did you crawl under when Frieza purged our race?"
The words hit Sage like physical blows, but he kept his expression neutral. Fifteen years of hiding had taught him to mask his reactions. "I don't answer to you."
"Oh, but you do." Vegeta's power spiked just enough to make the air feel heavy, oppressive. "I am Prince Vegeta, heir to the Saiyan throne. Every surviving member of our race answers to me, including cowardly rats who fled while their betters died with honor."
"Hey!" Krillin stepped forward, his hands already glowing with gathered ki. "Back off! We're here to stop you from destroying Earth!"
Nappa's laughter boomed across the wasteland. "Did the little bald one just threaten us, Vegeta?"
"I believe he did. How adorable." Vegeta's attention shifted to the assembled Z-fighters, his expression becoming bored. "Very well. I suppose we should dispose of the trash before dealing with family business."
The prince nodded once. Nappa's grin stretched impossibly wide.
"Finally! Vegeta, can I play with them? Please? I promise to make it last!"
"Do what you want, Nappa. Just leave the traitor alive. I have questions for him."
What happened next would be seared into the survivors' memories forever.
Nappa moved.
His speed was beyond anything the Earth fighters had prepared for. One moment he stood beside Vegeta, the next he was in front of Tien, his massive fist already in motion.
Tien's eyes widened in shock, but his training kicked in. He twisted aside, Nappa's punch whistling past his face with enough force to create a visible shockwave. The three-eyed warrior's counterattack came instantly—a precise palm strike aimed at Nappa's exposed ribs.
It was like punching a mountain.
Tien's strike connected cleanly, his ki-enhanced blow landing with a sound like thunder. Nappa didn't even flinch. Instead, he grabbed Tien's extended arm with casual ease.
"My turn," the giant Saiyan said cheerfully.
He spun once, building momentum, then released. Tien flew across the battlefield like a missile, his trajectory taking him through two rocky outcroppings before he finally came to rest in a crater of his own making.
"TIEN!" Chiaotzu's psychic scream of anguish echoed across the wasteland as he rushed toward his fallen friend.
Nappa was already moving again, his target now Krillin. The human fighter had precious seconds to react as death approached on massive legs.
"Destructo Disc!" Krillin's signature technique formed with desperate speed, the spinning blade of ki crackling with deadly energy as it left his hands.
Nappa batted it aside like an annoying insect.
The disc, capable of cutting through almost anything, deflected harmlessly into the sky where it dissipated against the upper atmosphere. Nappa's backhand followed through, catching Krillin across the chest with devastating force.
The former monk's scream was cut short as he crashed into the ground, bouncing twice before sliding to a stop in an unmoving heap.
"Krillin!" Piccolo's voice carried genuine concern as he launched himself at Nappa, abandoning all pretense of strategy. The Namekian's fists blurred in a combination that would have felled any normal opponent.
Nappa weaved through the assault like it was happening in slow motion, his grin never wavering. When Piccolo committed to a particularly powerful straight punch, the Saiyan simply caught his fist and squeezed.
The sound of bones grinding together was audible across the battlefield.
"Nice technique," Nappa said conversationally as Piccolo struggled in his grip. "Reminds me of some of the fighters on Arlia. They screamed real pretty when I broke them too."
He drove his knee upward. Piccolo managed to get his free arm down to block, but the impact still lifted him off his feet. Nappa's follow-up was a simple overhead smash that drove the Namekian face-first into the rocky ground with crater-forming force.
In less than two minutes, three of Earth's strongest defenders had been systematically demolished.
"Pathetic," Vegeta observed from his position at the crater's edge. "I expected more from the planet that supposedly killed Raditz. These insects couldn't defeat a Saibaman, let alone a Saiyan elite."
Sage watched it all with growing horror and rage. These were his allies—people who had slowly learned to trust him despite his catastrophic first impression. People who had become something like friends. And they were being destroyed by his own people.
The irony was crushing.
"You bastards," he snarled, his power beginning to climb as emotion overrode rational thought.
"Ah, finally showing some spirit?" Vegeta's attention returned to him with obvious pleasure. "Good. I was beginning to think survival had completely destroyed your Saiyan nature."
Sage didn't respond with words. He moved.
Fifteen years of obsessive training had given him something the others lacked—perfect efficiency. Where they relied on raw power or flashy techniques, Sage fought with clinical precision. Every movement served a purpose, every strike aimed for maximum damage with minimum energy expenditure.
He appeared beside Nappa while the giant was still gloating over Piccolo's fallen form. His elbow strike was a thing of beauty—textbook form, perfect timing, delivered with every ounce of power his body could generate.
It caught Nappa in the kidney with surgical precision.
The giant Saiyan's eyes widened in genuine surprise as pain flared through his midsection. He spun toward his attacker, but Sage was already moving, flowing into his next technique with practiced ease.
A knife-hand strike toward Nappa's throat, blocked at the last second by a desperately raised forearm. Sage's knee came up immediately after, forcing Nappa to bring his other arm down to protect his ribs. The opening lasted less than a heartbeat, but it was enough.
Sage's palm strike caught Nappa square in the solar plexus, driving the breath from his lungs in an explosive wheeze.
"What—?" Nappa staggered backward, genuine confusion mixing with pain on his brutish features. "How did you—?"
"Technique," Sage said simply, already repositioning for his next assault. "Something you wouldn't understand."
Nappa's confusion transformed into rage. "You little—!"
His counterattack was everything Sage had expected—raw power, incredible speed, but utterly predictable. The giant's fist whistled through empty air as Sage ducked under it, his own strike already in motion.
But Nappa was learning. His missed punch was a feint, his real attack coming from his other hand in a brutal backfist that caught Sage across the jaw with enough force to lift him off his feet.
Stars exploded across Sage's vision as he flew backward, his body ragdolling through the air before crashing into the rocky ground. The taste of blood filled his mouth, and his left cheek felt like it was on fire.
"Not bad," Nappa admitted, rotating his shoulder where Sage's elbow had connected. "You actually hurt me. That's more than these other insects managed."
Sage spat blood and pushed himself to his feet, his body screaming protests that he ignored. Around him, the other fighters were slowly stirring—battered, bloodied, but not quite finished.
"Is that all you've got?" he called out, wiping crimson from his lips.
Nappa's grin returned full force. "Oh, we're just getting started."
What followed was a masterclass in tactical fighting versus overwhelming power. Sage used every trick his father had taught him, every technique he'd perfected in fifteen years of solitary training. He was faster than Nappa, more skilled, infinitely more precise.
It didn't matter.
Raw power had a quality all its own. Sage could land three strikes for every one of Nappa's, could avoid ninety percent of the giant's attacks through superior speed and technique. But the ten percent that connected were devastating.
A grazing blow across his ribs left him gasping for breath. A blocked punch still had enough residual force to numb his entire arm. A kick he almost avoided still clipped his shoulder hard enough to dislocate it.
Meanwhile, his own attacks, no matter how perfectly executed, seemed to barely affect his opponent. Nappa was simply too tough, too durable, too overwhelmingly powerful.
"This is actually fun!" Nappa laughed as he grabbed for Sage again. "You're like a really annoying insect that keeps buzzing around!"
Sage twisted away from the grasping hands, but his movements were becoming sluggish. Blood loss and accumulated damage were taking their toll. His breathing was labored, his vision slightly blurred.
From the sidelines, Vegeta watched with cold amusement. "Pathetic display, even for a low-class warrior. Your father would be ashamed."
The taunt hit home like a physical blow. Sage's concentration wavered for just an instant—but an instant was all Nappa needed.
The giant's fist connected with Sage's midsection, driving him to his knees with an agonized gasp. Before he could recover, Nappa's knee came up, catching him under the chin and sending him sprawling backward.
"Stay down," Nappa advised cheerfully. "You're embarrassing yourself."
But Sage was already trying to stand, his legs shaking with the effort. Blood ran freely from his nose and mouth, his left arm hung useless at his side, and his ribs felt like broken glass with every breath.
He stood anyway.
"Stubborn little rat," Nappa observed. "Fine. Let's finish this."
The giant's power spiked as he prepared for a finishing blow that would reduce Sage to paste. Around the battlefield, the other fighters watched in horror, too battered to intervene effectively.
Then a small voice cut through the tension like a blade.
"Leave him alone!"
Everyone turned to see Gohan floating ten feet off the ground, his small fists clenched and his young face twisted with fury. The five-year-old's power was climbing rapidly, fueled by righteous anger at seeing his friend brutalized.
"Oh?" Vegeta's interest was piqued. "Another Saiyan? How very interesting."
"I won't let you hurt Sage anymore!" Gohan's voice cracked with emotion, but his determination was absolute.
Nappa looked from the battered warrior to the floating child and back again. His grin became positively predatory.
"Two for the price of one? This day just keeps getting better!"
The giant launched himself at Gohan with the same devastating speed he'd shown against the others. But the young half-Saiyan's latent power, triggered by desperate fury, allowed him to react in ways that shocked everyone present.
He moved.
Not with Sage's tactical precision or his father's natural grace, but with raw, instinctive power that caught Nappa completely off guard. Gohan's small fist connected with the giant's jaw in a blow that actually stopped Nappa's forward momentum.
"What the hell—?" Nappa staggered, more surprised than hurt.
Gohan's follow-up was a wild, untrained kick that nevertheless carried enough force to send Nappa sliding backward across the rocky ground. The child's power continued to climb, his untapped potential finally beginning to surface under extreme duress.
"Impossible," Vegeta breathed, his scouter crackling with readings. "That power level... from a child?"
But Gohan's burst of strength was short-lived. The emotional trigger that had unlocked his power began to fade as quickly as it had come. His small body, pushed beyond its limits, started to give out.
Nappa recovered quickly, his surprise transforming into cold fury. "You little brat! Nobody makes a fool of Nappa!"
His counterattack was swift and merciless. A simple backhand that caught Gohan across the chest, sending the child tumbling through the air like a broken doll. The young half-Saiyan hit the ground hard and didn't get up.
"Gohan!" Sage's anguished cry tore across the battlefield as he watched the five-year-old's crumpled form.
Around them, the other Z-fighters lay motionless or barely conscious. Piccolo stirred weakly in his crater, green blood pooling beneath his battered form. Krillin hadn't moved since Nappa's first devastating blow. Tien and Chiaotzu were barely breathing, their bodies twisted at unnatural angles.
Only Sage remained standing, and just barely. His legs shook with exhaustion, his breathing came in ragged gasps, and blood continued to flow from multiple wounds. But his eyes burned with undiminished determination.
Across from him, Nappa dusted off his hands with theatrical satisfaction. "Well, that was fun. A little disappointing, but fun. Ready to finish this, Vegeta?"
The prince stepped forward, his cold gaze sweeping across the battlefield littered with broken defenders. "Indeed. Though I admit, I expected more from Earth's so-called heroes."
He looked directly at Sage, his expression mixing contempt with grudging acknowledgment. "You fought well for trash, I'll give you that. Better than I expected from a coward's spawn. But this ends now."
Vegeta's power began to climb, the air around him shimmering with barely contained energy. The readings on every functioning scouter went haywire as the true extent of his strength began to manifest.
Sage felt it like a physical weight pressing down on him—power beyond anything he'd ever imagined, raw and terrible and utterly overwhelming. This was what eighteen thousand meant. This was elite-class strength.
But he didn't back down.
"Come on then," he said quietly, wiping blood from his mouth as he settled into his fighting stance one final time. "Let's see what royal blood is really worth."
Behind him, Gohan stirred weakly, the child's eyes fluttering open just enough to see Sage standing defiantly between him and the approaching Saiyans. The image would burn itself into the young warrior's memory—a lone figure refusing to yield despite impossible odds, blood-soaked and broken but still standing.
Still fighting.
Vegeta's smile was sharp enough to cut steel. "With pleasure."
The final battle was about to begin, and somewhere in the distance, a lone figure raced across the landscape at impossible speed, desperately trying to reach the battlefield before it was too late.
But for now, Sage and Gohan stood alone against the might of the Saiyan elite, Earth's last hope in its darkest hour.