Year 732 of the Galactic Era — Universe 7, within the Dragon Ball world.

Planet Plant.

The mighty King Vegeta III, ruler of the Saiyan race, was cradling a newborn infant in his arms. The tiny Saiyan baby was completely naked, a long, furred tail swaying behind his small back. He had just been removed from the incubation pod—a Saiyan infant’s artificial womb.

That child was Prince Vegeta, heir to the throne—born with power that shattered expectations from the very first moment he breathed.

With a power level of 1,100, the newborn was instantly classified as an Elite-Class Warrior—a feat so rare that even among Saiyans, it bordered on myth.

This prince would one day grow into one of the few to achieve the legendary state known as Super Saiyan, a living legend among the galaxy’s warrior race.

To commemorate the birth of his prodigious heir and welcome the future ruler of their people, King Vegeta III declared a monumental decree:

Planet Plant was officially renamed Planet Vegeta.

But amid the celebration and the thunderous pride of the Saiyan court, another child was born that very same day.

His name was Kyūjō—our protagonist.

Unlike the royal child, Kyūjō was the son of two ordinary Mid-Class Saiyan Warriors—nothing remarkable about them at all.

Even their combined strength barely exceeded a thousand points, and Kyūjō himself was born with a measly power level of 31—a number so low it might as well have been a curse among Saiyans.

Upon seeing that number displayed on the incubator monitor, his parents—apathetic and selfish—abandoned him without hesitation.

They left immediately to join an off-world conquest mission, not even bothering to give their newborn son a name.

All that remained was a numerical tag printed on his incubation pod: 9527.

To Saiyans, children held no sentimental value. Words like family, love, or affection meant nothing.

For them, life was defined by one thing—battle.

That was their joy, their instinct, their identity.

It was no wonder the Saiyan race was feared throughout the galaxy as the most savage warriors in existence.

Still, despite his lowly number, Kyūjō’s initial reading of 31 was just high enough to place him in the Mid-Class potential category.

Had his number been a single digit—like Son Goku’s when he was born—he would’ve been deemed too weak to bother with and sent to a remote planet to “cleanse” it alone.

— — —

Inside his incubation pod, Kyūjō slowly opened his eyes.

His tiny body floated in thick nutrient fluid that seeped into his pores, strengthening his cells with every passing second.

Even in that infant form, he could faintly perceive the sensations around him through the spiritual sensitivity of his Infinity Sense—a remnant of the power that once defined him.

The technology here was incredible.

Around him stood nearly a hundred transparent incubation chambers, each holding a small Saiyan baby with a furry tail curling behind them.

Beyond the glass walls, an enormous metallic platform stretched outward, lined with rows of oval-shaped spacecraft gleaming under artificial light—unmistakable examples of interstellar Saiyan engineering.

And beyond that… were dozens of intelligent alien species of various shapes, colors, and forms, all working under Saiyan supervision.

But what drew Kyūjō’s attention most were the Saiyan warriors outside the nursery—each wearing the same combat armor, their scouters glowing green over one eye, and their tails swaying behind them like restless serpents.

The sight was both alien and strangely nostalgic.

Of course he recognized this place.

This was Planet Vegeta—

and he had been reborn into the world of Dragon Ball.

Kyūjō glanced down at his own tail.

“So… I really am in the Dragon Ball universe. And I’m… a Saiyan?”

The thought made his heart tremble with excitement.

Images of unimaginable power flashed through his mind—

warriors who could shatter mountains with a single scream,

destroy planets with a flick of their wrist,

and ascend beyond mortality through sheer will and fury.

Even though his body was still that of a helpless infant, his eyes burned with fierce determination.

— — —

In his previous life, he had given everything to defeat Garou in the world of One Punch Man.

He had even clashed head-on with Saitama, the Bald Demon King, in the corner of the universe itself.

At the edge of his soul’s collapse—at the end of that world—

Kyūjō finally glimpsed the mysterious object that had carried him across dimensions all this time.

It was a sword—

a long, slender blade that split the void itself, radiating a faint golden light.

It was both tangible and ethereal, real yet untouchable.

He couldn’t identify its origin, but now, that same sword rested deep within his soul.

He could feel it, its presence constant and serene.

Its golden light ceaselessly healed the wounds of his battered spirit, calming his mind like a lullaby from the stars.

Perhaps it was because of this sword that, even with his soul nearly shattered, he felt no pain—only a quiet warmth, peace, and clarity.

But there was one small regret.

Just like in his time in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, the realm of Dragon Ball was not compatible with most of his previous powers.

All of them were gone—

except for one: Breathing Technique.

Fortunately, the energy system of this world offered a glimmer of hope.

Here, life itself could be harnessed through internal energy known as Ki,

and its use was perfectly aligned with his own mastery of Breathing.

And so, before he could even walk, before he could even speak,

Kyūjō had already formed a plan—

One day, he would escape Planet Vegeta…

and journey to Earth.

— — —

Six months later.

For reasons no one could comprehend, Kyūjō’s biological parents—who had long abandoned him—suddenly remembered that they had a child. They came to retrieve him from the incubation ward and brought him home.

But to Kyūjō, that “home” was anything but comforting.

If anything, life there was even worse than the sterile peace of the incubator.

At least in the pod, he’d been constantly nourished with concentrated liquid nutrients—perfect for refining the Breathing Technique he continued to practice in secret.

Though there hadn’t been an official power-level test during those six months, Kyūjō’s heightened senses allowed him to estimate his own growth with surprising accuracy.

And the result was staggering.

His power level had multiplied twelvefold since birth!

From a mere 31 points, he now stood at roughly 379—a number few Saiyan infants could ever dream of reaching.

Unfortunately, life at home made further growth difficult. The only food he was given were high-density nutrient bars—sufficient to survive, but tasteless, rock-hard, and completely unsuited for supporting his rapid development.

Expecting Saiyan parents to cook a proper meal? Impossible.

Thankfully, the nightmare didn’t last long.

Soon enough, his parents once again volunteered for an invasion mission with their squad. Following Saiyan custom, they dropped the six-month-old Kyūjō off at the Saiyan Infant Training and Care Center, then left for their spaceship without so much as a backward glance.

But what happened next shook the entire facility.

Every newly received baby was required to undergo a power-level test—and the results for Infant No. 9527 were nothing short of shocking.

379 Power Level!

It wasn’t on par with the infant prince Vegeta’s 1,100 points, but for a six-month-old Saiyan, the number was simply phenomenal.

Kyūjō was immediately classified as a potential High-Class Warrior—

and not just any High-Class, but one with the potential to evolve into an Elite-Class Warrior, capable of reaching into the thousands.

On Planet Vegeta, there were fewer than twenty individuals of such caliber. They were the true pillars of Saiyan supremacy.

Disbelieving the result, the attendants ran multiple retests.

Each yielded the same outcome.

They finally concluded that the original birth reading must have been an error—after all, no Saiyan without combat experience could have grown this powerful in such a short time.

Among Saiyans, power only increased through constant battle—

through wounds, rage, and survival.

Once the numbers were confirmed, the caretakers immediately reported the anomaly to the upper command of the Saiyan Empire.

— — —

The “error” in Kyūjō’s initial power detection had consequences.

The alien technician responsible for managing the infant incubation system that day was executed on the spot by a Saiyan soldier.

The poor man died without ever understanding why—his final moments filled with confusion and fear.

When Kyūjō heard of the incident later, he could only sigh quietly to himself.

“Sin… this world is drenched in sin.”

But such was the nature of the universe.

The strong devoured the weak.

Entire worlds had been conquered and enslaved by Saiyans. Alien races from every corner of the galaxy were either exterminated or subjugated.

A few were spared only because they served a purpose—maintaining the infrastructure of Planet Vegeta, managing systems and logistics that the Saiyans themselves had no patience for.

After all, Saiyans were good at only one thing—fighting.

Anything beyond that was secondary, almost meaningless.

And Kyūjō knew better than to interfere with a system that had been this way for generations.

Behind all the power and pride of the Saiyan race lay an even darker truth—

they were nothing more than tools in the hands of one being.

A ruler whose name echoed across the stars.

The Emperor of the Universe—Frieza.

Every Saiyan, even King Vegeta himself, was merely one of Frieza’s pawns—an expendable soldier in his vast army of planetary conquerors.

The Saiyan race existed only to fight, destroy, and deliver profit to their Emperor.

King Vegeta understood this bitter truth all too well, yet even he was powerless to change it.

Still, ignorant of Frieza’s true strength, the King secretly harbored rebellion in his heart.

He dreamed of one day breaking free—of slaying the Emperor and liberating his people from the cold grip of fear.

But Frieza…

Frieza never saw the Saiyans as subordinates.

He kept a close watch on them only because of one ancient legend—

the prophecy of the Super Saiyan.

Were it not for their extraordinary combat efficiency, Frieza would have erased the Saiyan race from existence long ago.

And Kyūjō knew all of this.

According to the timeline he remembered from his previous worlds, Planet Vegeta had less than five years left before its destruction—before Frieza annihilated nearly the entire Saiyan race.

Which meant he needed to act soon.

He had to find a way to slip past Frieza’s surveillance network and escape this doomed planet.

He needed to reach Earth—the sooner, the better.

— — —

Not long after Kyūjō’s astonishing power levels spread throughout the ranks, grim news followed.

His biological parents—the same pair who had abandoned him—were killed during an off-world invasion.

The planet they attacked turned out to harbor warriors stronger than expected, and neither Saiyan returned alive.

Thus, before even reaching the age of seven months, Kyūjō became an orphan once again.

But in Saiyan society, orphans weren’t pitied—they were tested.

If they possessed potential, the government would raise them collectively through structured combat education.

Those without talent, the Low-Class Warriors, were shipped off to remote planets to “purge” them—

thrown into war zones as disposable soldiers.

But Kyūjō?

He was different.

A promising Elite-Class candidate, now free of any parental interference.

Ironically, his life improved dramatically after their deaths.

— — —

Two years passed swiftly.

In the elite residential district of Planet Vegeta—home to High-Class Warriors—a two-story villa stood among the steel towers.

Inside, within a high-tech chamber, a sealed capsule the size of a bathtub slowly opened with a hiss.

From within, a young boy emerged—barely three years old, standing around 120 centimeters tall. His small frame was lean, his hair black and spiky, and his skin glistened with traces of thick blue nutrient fluid dripping down his body.

That fluid was an ultra-high-grade biological enhancer, worth a fortune across the galaxy. Thanks to it, Kyūjō’s physical growth had accelerated far beyond normal Saiyans of his age.

But even among Saiyans, no ordinary child could absorb it as efficiently as he did.

He stepped into the washroom, rinsed the remaining fluid from his skin, and dressed in the standard black-and-gray Saiyan Battle Armor.

Though he hadn’t yet fully mastered the control of Ki, his body control was unmatched. He suppressed his energy to about one-third of its true strength, masking the rest completely.

He then picked up a scouter, attached it over his left eye, and scanned himself.

A digital tone chirped—

Power Level: 587

Kyūjō turned the device off and murmured under his breath,

“My actual strength is around 1,760… but at this rate, the nutrient fluid alone can no longer push me forward. If it weren’t for the Breathing Technique helping me break past my body’s natural limits, I’d never have reached this point with just a Mid-Class base.”

Yes—this was the power of Kyūjō before his third birthday.

And more importantly—he had deliberately disabled his scouter’s transmitter.

Every scouter on Planet Vegeta was supplied by Frieza’s forces…

and every single one had been secretly modified.

Kyūjō knew all too well—

He wasn’t ready to attract the Emperor’s attention.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep