🌌 Saiyan of the Red Dawn
Chapter 1 – Birth of a Monster
(Part 2)
Far above Planet Vegeta, the darkness of space shimmered with the distant light of uncounted suns. In the vastness between worlds, an imperial ship drifted in regal silence.
Inside, golden inlays and polished obsidian columns framed a throne that gleamed with the shine of countless conquered civilizations. A clawed hand idly swirled purple wine in a crystal goblet, the motion delicate and almost dainty.
When the scouter feed crackled to life, Emperor Frieza leaned forward, ruby eyes narrowing.
"Ah…what have we here?"
The projected readings glowed in the air before him, painting the darkness with a single, damning number:
120,000,000.
For a long moment, only the quiet drip of condensation in the cooling ducts disturbed the silence.
Frieza's lips curved in a delicate smile, though it never touched his eyes.
"How delightful," he whispered. "It seems the monkeys have birthed themselves a little god."
Zarbon shifted uncomfortably behind him, eyes fixed on the scouter data. "Sire…that level of power—"
"I see it, Zarbon."
Frieza sipped his wine, never looking away from the hologram.
"Send a reconnaissance unit to confirm visual identification," he said at last. "And begin a full genetic analysis. If this creature truly is a Saiyan, I wish to know every detail."
Zarbon bowed low. "As you command."
When the door hissed shut behind his retainer, Frieza reclined against the throne's high back and exhaled a slow, thoughtful breath.
One slender fingertip tapped the goblet's rim in a soft rhythm.
"Perhaps," he murmured, "this will make things interesting."
His smile widened, teeth gleaming.
"Very interesting indeed."
Below, in the shattered birthing chamber, King Vegeta felt the chill of that same premonition. He turned to the medics.
"You," he barked, pointing to the older one. "Secure containment. No contact with other infants."
The medic swallowed. "Sire—containment may not be—"
"I gave you an order."
"Yes, King Vegeta."
The medic retreated to the control console, fingers trembling as he keyed in override commands. Automated grapplers extended from the walls, each ending in a gleaming metal brace designed to immobilize even the strongest newborn.
The baby watched them approach, golden eyes unblinking.
The king's jaw clenched. "I will not have this…thing…grow without oversight. If Frieza learns of it—"
But the words withered on his tongue. Even as the first clamp closed around the child's ankle, a shockwave blasted outward. Sparks rained from the ceiling. The grapplers bent as if made of tinfoil, then tore free altogether.
The medic cried out, throwing up an arm as shards of metal sliced the air.
The child sat up, tail flicking in irritation. In that moment, King Vegeta glimpsed something that made his stomach twist: a hint of amusement in those golden eyes, as though the infant found this all beneath notice.
That was when the king realized—truly realized—that he was no longer in control.
He turned on his heel, cape snapping behind him. "Alert the High Council. This must be contained. If word spreads…"
He didn't finish the thought.
Behind him, the child lay back again, one tiny hand curled around the remains of the grappler. Steam hissed up around him in lazy coils.
And within his newborn mind, memories continued to bleed through the veil:
A childhood on Earth—laughter, warmth, the taste of freedom.
A sky torn open by a tyrant's hand.
A vow whispered into the void:
If there is another chance… I will never be weak again.
He did not know his new name. Not yet. But he remembered the oath.
The oath would be enough.
Hours later, deep in the royal archives, King Vegeta stood alone before a sealed vault. Only the king's genetic signature could open it—a failsafe from generations past.
He pressed his palm against the sensor pad. A red line scanned up his arm, humming. The door parted with a heavy sigh of ancient locks.
Inside waited a single stasis pod.
The figure within was not a Saiyan but something far older. A remnant of the Tuffle wars—a bio-android prototype that even Frieza didn't know existed.
King Vegeta's gaze lingered on the readout panel:
PROJECT 21.
Power unknown. Origins classified.
His hand trembled at his side. For the first time in his reign, he felt truly outmatched.
"If this…monster…cannot be controlled," he whispered, "perhaps you will be the key."
He deactivated the stasis alarms, though he did not yet trigger revival. That would come in time—once he understood what he was dealing with.
And above it all, far beyond even Frieza's flagship, the stars burned on, uncaring.
The universe had always been a place where power ruled. But rarely did it birth something that defied every law and legend.
In the darkness of the birthing chamber, the infant slept again, his dreams haunted by voices not his own:
—Kael…
—Red Horizon…
—Remember…
When his eyes next opened, they would be the eyes of a predator.
And Planet Vegeta would never be the same.