The smoke still clung to the desert like a disease. The air tasted of metal and ozone, of lives almost spent. Every crater glowed faintly at the edges, as if the earth itself hadn't decided whether it was finished burning.
In the center of that ruin, Vegeta dragged one foot after the other. His body was a ledger of damage—armor cracked into useless tiles, one eye swollen shut, blood painting his mouth redder than any aura could. His ki sputtered, more ember than flame, but it was his, and that was enough to keep him upright.
He did not limp like a beaten man. He limped like a king who hated stairs.
The System clung to his vision, stabilizing around static:
[Critical Status Maintained]PL: 12,900 — unstable.Stamina: 18%.Projected Zenkai (if survival): +24,000 → 37,000 PL.Super Saiyan Progress: 52% (Milestone: Within 48h of recovery).
[Advisory]Host should retreat.Current threat matrix: High (Kakarot and allies capable of coordinated finish).Survival = Ascension.
The soldier in him agreed. Retreat meant survival. Survival meant growth. Growth meant the throne of the universe, not just the throne of this worthless planet.
But the prince in him burned to kill something before leaving.
Behind him, the sounds of the broken Z-Fighters filled the night. Krillin, wheezing as he pulled Gohan back to safety. Yajirobe, groaning under his breath, half-hidden in the shadow of a rock. And Goku, sprawled in the dirt, still breathing, still smiling faintly like a man who believed survival was its own kind of victory.
Vegeta hated that smile.
He turned. His fingers twitched, gathering a thin spike of violet ki. It wasn't a blast to end worlds, not anymore. It was a dagger, meant for throats.
He raised it toward the boy. Gohan's wide eyes reflected the glow, more brave than they had any right to be. Krillin moved in front again, trembling but ready to be first.
The System scrolled its verdict:
[Target: Son Gohan]Emotional impact on Kakarot: Catastrophic.Ascension Progress: +12% (if executed).Survival Risk: Extreme (allies counterattack).
Ethan's soldier whispered through the rage: Kill him, and you don't leave this world alive. Spare him, and you live to become something worse than what they fear.
Vegeta's hand lowered. The ki sputtered out between his fingers like a lie that had lost its courage.
"Pathetic," he spat, voice raw. "Even when victory is mine, the stars conspire to deny me the pleasure."
He looked once more at Goku. The fool lay half-conscious, broken beyond repair, yet his eyes still glittered. There was no begging in them. Only promise.
"This isn't finished, Kakarot," Vegeta said, his smirk thin but real. "Next time, I'll show you what a Saiyan is meant to be."
He turned his back on them all and staggered toward the edge of the crater. Each step was heavy, each breath wet with blood, but none of it slowed the certainty in his stride. Above, the night split as his pod, still loyal to its master, screamed through the atmosphere on beacon command.
Krillin's shoulders slumped. Relief warred with dread. He whispered, "He's leaving."
Gohan's fists shook. "We… we can't let him get away!"
Goku coughed, the sound wet and tired. "No, Gohan. Let him go."
"But—"
"Listen to me." His eyes stayed on the prince's fading silhouette. "He'll be back. Stronger. Worse. But so will we. And next time… we'll be ready."
His body gave up the last word to unconsciousness. His head tilted back against the dirt.
The pod descended, cutting a new scar into the sky. Sand blasted outward as it landed at the crater's rim. Its hatch yawned open like the mouth of some loyal beast.
Vegeta paused at the threshold. He glanced back once—not at the broken monk, not at the boy, not even at the fool he'd nearly killed. His gaze lingered on the severed tail, still lying in the dirt.
He smiled, crooked and ugly, and stepped inside.
The hatch sealed. The engines roared. The desert shook once more as the pod rose into the night, shrinking into a star too small to hate and too dangerous to forget.
The silence after was brutal. The fighters lay scattered in the wreckage, alive but hollowed. The earth had survived, barely.
And somewhere deep inside the ship streaking back into the void, a prince laughed softly through split lips, because survival itself had become a weapon.