When I woke up, it was already dark, so I had probably slept for an entire day. I got up and went to the bathroom to wash the dirt and blood from my body. When I came out, I felt refreshed, and my thoughts turned to what I should do now that I had a larger capital.
14,150 coins.I could spend some on a radar and still have change left. That option appealed to me the most. Training with elite Saiyans cost around 10,000 coins per day, and it was meaningless. Completely useless. If I bought a scouter for 6,000 coins, I would still have most of my money and could start thinking about techniques.
Of course, the stronger the technique, the higher the cost. But I didn't need any of those second-class techniques that only let you release your full ki for a second. They were trash. Nothing elite—nothing like Piccolo's methods, which could amplify power enough to defeat someone five times stronger. So I decided: buy the scouter, then use the remaining coins to make even more money. After that, I could consider techniques.
Now that I thought about it, the Artificial Moon hadn't been invented yet—at least not officially. My brother probably gave the idea to the Saiyans for free, only for them to laugh at him and look down on him after he warned them about Frieza's attack. When I master the Oozaru form in my second year, I'll recreate that technique myself and make a fortune from it.
Thinking about Bardock, I wondered whether he was enjoying himself or struggling on conquest missions. Probably struggling. He was never like the other Saiyans. He didn't enjoy killing for no reason—he fought for survival and benefit. He loved combat, but not meaningless slaughter.
In that way, we were similar. I didn't hesitate to kill someone weaker, but didnt enjoy it. In this universe, weakness itself was a sin. Saiyans were exterminated and hunted to the edge of existence simply because a lizard was afraid of our potential. Some might blame King Vegeta, but they forget that we were treated as Cold's left hand during his conquests, and once Frieza took the throne, we became nothing more than slaves. Sent on the hardest missions, with little to no support.
I shook my head."For now, focus on what matters."
I went to the marketplace in the camp, where you could buy almost anything. When I arrived, I saw one of the lackeys who had been in the commander's room during my fight with Culer. He glanced at me, then returned to his papers without greeting me.
I stepped closer."I need a scouter. No sugar-coating."
"Budget?" he asked. "Cheapest?"
I nodded. "Cheapest."
He stood up, went into the storage room, and returned with a blue-colored scouter. He didn't explain anything—just handed me a paper with usage instructions and its maximum capacity.
10,000.More than enough for a long time.
I paid, took it, and left. The shopkeeper watched me go and sighed, but I didn't notice.
Next, I went to the canteen. I was still eating second-rate meat, but this time I bought some first-class food. It was phenomenal. Nothing compared to Earth's food—the highest-ranked cuisine according to that sleeping cat—but this was near the top by universal standards.
I ate three plates of leg meat rich with ki. After that, I couldn't eat anymore. It was too dense with nutrients and energy.
Saiyans passed by, looking at me without disgust or fear. Death matches were normal, but they weren't everyday events. They were entertainment in the camp—one of the few sources of excitement besides missions.
Missions ranged from punishment duties, like cleaning floors and toilets, to full planetary conquests. You couldn't conquer planets alone, and you had to be at least a third-year to participate. The pay was excellent, though I didn't know the exact amount—it probably depended on the planet.
After eating, I went to fight Saibamen. I asked for stronger ones. The caretaker, Muler, looked at me.
"What's your power level?"
"2600."
"You can fight up to 3500," he said. "If you go beyond that, we won't be able to save you."
I nodded. "Give me one at 3500."
He pointed to a room. "Wait there."
When my turn came, I was sent into an open arena. A green Saibaman emerged—but not like the weak ones on Earth. This one had more time, better resources, and far more experience.
The fight was fun at first, but it quickly became predictable. There was no real thought behind its movements. No instinct for openings. Saibamen were designed to slaughter civilians and weak targets, not skilled fighters.
I used ki and ended the fight quickly, without taking any damage.
Back in my room, I felt empty. Nothing interested me. I knew that if I entered the first-class bracket now, I'd be on the weaker end. Rumors said the strongest there had a power level around 4700, and Vegeta III had 5500 when he left two years before I arrived.
It was better to wait until my second year—no need to make stronger enemies yet.
Still, I wondered.If I killed more of them… would that white energy appear again?Was it growth? A curse? A technique that limited me?
The Dragon Ball universe was full of secrets. I had to be careful—but careful didn't mean cowardly. Those were two very different things.