The Saiyan King decided to send several people to check on how Bardock's mission was progressing. It would take them around three months to reach the planet, which meant Bardock still had time to train his body. He didn't understand ki training properly, but he observed how the aliens on Planet Herta used it and tried to imitate their methods.
For two months straight, Bardock trained constantly. A Saibaman that stayed by his side gathered and brought him food. Over time, the Saibaman began changing color, becoming yellowish from the planet's soil. Both Bardock's and the Saibaman's power increased, and they occasionally fought—but it bored Bardock quickly. Saibamen fought without thought, their large heads empty of strategy or intent.
Knowing that Saiyans—or possibly members of the Cold Force—would arrive soon, Bardock destroyed any evidence that pointed to him wiping out the planet too efficiently. He wanted to be seen as nothing more than a low-class Saiyan with unusual talent. Perhaps that way he could even be promoted to a middle-class squad.
Back on Planet Vegeta, Vaske was fighting again—this time for the fifth position. He couldn't jump straight from tenth to first. The rules required him to fight everyone ranked above him in the top ten. A loss would set him back significantly, but Vaske wasn't afraid. He was thrilled.
His opponent was a Saiyan named Madar, a tricky fighter who even bit his enemies when they least expected it. He wasn't weak by any standard—he simply fought in a brutally primal way and felt no shame about it. He believed it was his path, and he wouldn't abandon it just because other Saiyans thought it was dishonorable.
Vaske threw light punches—jabs, hooks, and occasional uppercuts—searching for an opening. But Madar wasn't easy to deceive. He saw through Vaske's intent and tried to close the distance, aiming to grab Vaske's leg. Vaske relied heavily on his tail, using it to keep Madar at a distance with precise ki-infused movements.
Madar adjusted. He went for the leg again. When Vaske tried to stop him with his tail, Madar grabbed it.
Vaske instantly knew something was wrong. Madar wouldn't grab his tail just to test for weakness. Vaske didn't fully understand Madar's fighting style—until Madar gathered ki into his teeth and bit down.
Vaske barely managed to flood his tail with ki. Madar's teeth were razor-sharp, enhanced even further by ki. They bit through the tail—but didn't sever it completely.
"AAAAAARRRGHHHHHH!"
Madar leapt back and began chewing pieces of Vaske's tail, laughing as he did. That laughter was his second-worst mistake.
The first was stepping into the ring with Vaske.
First-person POV
I felt his eyes on me—his enjoyment of my pain. I couldn't endure it. I wanted to return that pain tenfold. My entire spine screamed, the pain spreading through my back. I could still move normally—I didn't know whether it was adrenaline or the lack of a fatal wound. Either way, I couldn't take risks.
I lunged straight at Madar's laughing face, aiming to kick him with my shin. He blocked with his forearms, still smiling. That smile disgusted me more than anything I'd felt in a long time.
I wanted to fire a ki blast and erase him—but ki blasts were forbidden in these fights.
So I started throwing punches. Fast. Relentless.
He couldn't dodge all of them. One struck his mouth, ripping his lips open and making them bleed. I didn't stop like he did when he injured me. I laughed loudly and kept punching.
Eventually, he began throwing counters. Some landed because I wasn't blocking with my tail like I normally would. Those counters weren't meant to defeat me—only to stop my assault. But I didn't stop. Seeing anger and desperation in his eyes filled me with satisfaction.
Then I saw an opening.
I lashed out with my tail trying to confuse him and make some demage. I aimed not to strike his face, but his calf. It hit cleanly. He lost control of his body for just a moment.
That was enough.
I rushed in. At the last second, I changed my plan. I poured as much ki as I could into my fingers and aimed for his left eye. He tried to dodge, but it wasn't enough.
I crushed his eye.
The fight ended when I kicked him in the head as he collapsed, unconscious.
I went to Pasla, claimed my rewards immediately, and returned to my room.
My room had become massive. The bed alone could fit five people, and the space felt more like a small house than a room. But what I appreciated most was the food. I received around 35 kilograms per week of Xirer. Still, during periods of extreme training, I had to buy extra. It was expensive—around 2,000 per kilo. I had saved roughly 1,200,000, so I wasn't worried yet, but I couldn't afford to overspend or I wouldn't be able to place bets.
Later that day, I attended a class on how to defeat weaker opponents. It was surprisingly useful—not just for weak enemies, but also for those equal to me. The lesson focused on choice: either sacrifice ki early for fast damage, or sacrifice time to gather information on your opponent.
If you chose time sacrifce, once you find their weakness, all you need is one decisive burst.
I realized I had been wasting both time and ki without real thought. The class emphasized absolute control over the battlefield and the opponent. If something couldn't be controlled, you had to overspend. For example, if reinforcements were coming, you had no choice—you had to crush your opponent instantly with ki, even if it drained you. If you chose to sacrifice time instead, you risked injury by being too careless.
Once you mastered the basics, you could combine both approaches—minimizing time and ki spent on weaker opponents.
Saiyans preferred overwhelming power, even at the risk of injury. But elite Saiyans had to think before acting. They didn't just risk their own lives—they risked the lives of the battalion that followed them.
After class, I left—and that's when I heard a rumor about a tournament. These tournaments were held either to determine the strongest fighter in the camp or for elite squads to recruit new members. I didn't know how much time I had to prepare, but if I won, the rewards would be significant.
And more importantly—I wouldn't have to worry about the king deciding I was too dangerous. They needed warriors, and I just couldn't afford to appear overly dominant too soon.