c2 What About The System, God, Have You Forgotten?
"Fate, since you've thrown me into this terrifying Saiyan era, don't you dare forget to hand me the system afterwards!"
But as soon as Su Ke shouted, his words turned into meaningless baby babble that nobody could understand.
"Yaa… yaaa…"
"What's wrong with you, little one? Just crawled out of the incubation pod and already not used to the outside world?" Elder Xing looked in surprise at Su Ke, whose tiny face suddenly showed despair and lifelessness.
Su Ke, exhausted physically and mentally, slumped and muttered in frustration, "Do you know what it feels like to be sure of victory, only to be crushed by a sudden accident?"
The baby's words, however, entered Elder Xing's ears as nothing but infant coos. He thought for a moment, then smiled warmly. "Could it be… are you hungry?"
Su Ke: Chickens talking to ducks. Forget it, old man, just destroy me already!
"Little one, let's get you dressed properly and then grab some food!" the elder said cheerfully, completely misinterpreting his gloom. With practiced hands, he carried Su Ke out of the nursery.
Su Ke, forcibly clothed and fed by the old Saiyan, soon found himself tossed into the middle of a pile of wriggling infants.
He sat on the soft fur blanket, watching the other Saiyan cubs crawling and wrestling in the gravity-heavy environment, their tiny tails wagging like monkeys.
Seeing their carefree faces stirred something sharp in Su Ke's chest.
So what if the timeline was still ridiculously early? Could he really just "take his time"?
In his imagination, he had already punched Beerus, kicked Whis, and shared sake with Zeno. The fantasy of a glorious future had been so vivid… and now, all of it was shattered in an instant!
"Why, damn it? God, you let me transmigrate here but forgot to give me the system?!"
Su Ke pushed himself upright on shaky legs and, filled with indignation, raised his tiny hand to show the middle finger toward the sky beyond the window.
Seeing this, Elder Xing's eyes widened with approval, and he nodded in satisfaction. "Good, Su Ke! You're the youngest, yet you're the first cub who can stand up already!"
Su Ke dropped back down with a pout. Tch. That kind of over-the-top praise doesn't impress me one bit!
"Alright, little ones, time to go out and bask in the sun—good for your bones, good for your fighting spirit!" Elder Xing clapped his hands and called out to the group of babies.
"The first one to crawl outdoors gets an extra meat portion tonight!"
"Yeeeeeeeh!"
"Yaaaah!"
Like a pack of wild wolf cubs, the Saiyan babies shrieked and rushed for the door, their tiny tails flicking with excitement.
Su Ke hurriedly staggered forward on his short legs, his posture brimming with reckless determination.
The promise of extra food wasn't the true prize—victory itself was.
Even without a system, relying on his understanding of Saiyan nature, he had to secure small wins right from the starting line.
Rush!
Time, like a fleeting moment, passed in a blur fifteen years gone in the blink of an eye.
From a helpless infant who could only babble, Su Ke had grown into a tall Saiyan youth, standing at 1.7 meters, fully adapted to the rhythms of life in this ancient Dragon Ball era.
The dawn sky glowed faintly white, and the vaulted dwellings were still lit by night-lamps.
Su Ke sprang upright like a carp leaping from water, jumped from his bed, and began the ritual he had performed every morning for the past fifteen years.
"System, system, are you there?"
After waiting three minutes, there was still no answer.
Su Ke didn't get angry. He just tied a strip of beast hide around his waist, flicked his furry tail, and strode outside.
Beyond the door stretched towering alien trees, rivers that glittered like glass, and strange creatures wandering leisurely beneath the red morning sky.
Bands of armored Saiyan patrols moved in tight formation, their scouters gleaming as they monitored the young.
"It's early, Su Ke! Heading to the arena again to challenge someone stronger?" one warrior called out with a grin as Su Ke passed.
"Yes," Su Ke replied, curling his lips into a faint smile.
"Hahaha, you really are a battle maniac," the guard laughed heartily.
After fifteen years of life here, Su Ke had developed a deep understanding of this primeval Saiyan society.
The confusion and helplessness of his first days, when he had no plot to rely on had long since faded.
He had discovered the truth of his situation: the universe he resided in was not Universe 7 at all, but the ancient Universe 18, long erased from Zeno's multiversal pruning. The planet beneath his feet was called Cub Star.
As its name implied, it was a world entirely dedicated to raising young Saiyans—a nursery world, like a military academy on a planetary scale.
And there wasn't just one such world. There were many, spread across the galaxies.
On Su Ke's Cub Star alone, there were over three hundred million Saiyan children, and the planet itself dwarfed Earth by thousands of times.
It was proof of the Saiyans' vast numbers and prosperity in this forgotten era, when their race had not yet been whittled down to near extinction.
Every cub was required to live, train, and study on Cub Star. Graduation was only recognized once a Saiyan could transform into the "Normal State" a stabilized primal form unique to the ancients.
(This form was comparable to the primal power that Dragon Ball GT's Son Goku tapped into as Super Saiyan 4, and maintaining it continuously was regarded as the natural state of adulthood.)
For the Saiyans of old, age and appearance meant nothing. Adulthood was measured only by strength.
Of course, reaching the Normal State required guidance. Unlike Goku's GT transformation, which relied on absorbing Blutz Waves from the full Earth, the ancients had their own method.
Once a Saiyan achieved Super Saiyan 3, they were granted two chances to undergo baptism in the Blood Pool. Surviving its torment an agony even worse than death itself meant emerging with the primal body and entering the Super 4 Normal State.
But failure was merciless. Those who attempted baptism twice and fell short lost all hope of advancing further.
They would be stripped of combat status, relegated to the shameful roles of logistics: moving supplies, tending beasts, doing menial chores unworthy of warriors.
For a proud Fighting Race, such a fate was worse than death.
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