The moment the interstellar pirate leader, Lux, retreated into the sky, the battlefield fell silent—save for the thunderous roars of the massive red Great Ape that still rampaged below.

It was Vic, the High-Class Saiyan warrior who had pushed himself far beyond his limits.

Now consumed entirely by primal fury, the giant ape swung his arms wildly, each motion shaking the ground and crushing the already-scarred terrain. Craters spread for miles, molten rock spilling from deep fissures.

Only when his strength was fully spent—his wounds too severe to sustain the transformation—did his massive frame collapse with an earth-shattering rumble.

As the dust settled, his enormous body began to shrink, fur receding, muscles retracting, until he returned to his humanoid Saiyan form. He lay unconscious, his armor shattered, barely breathing.

Kyūjō stood several dozen meters away, watching in silence. The scene stirred something deep within him… a mixture of awe and nostalgia.

He knew this phenomenon all too well.

In the original lore of the Dragon Ball universe, when a Saiyan gazed upon the full moon, the Blutz Waves reflected from its surface would trigger the transformation into an Ōzaru—a Great Ape.

That form granted an incredible surge in power—ten times the Saiyan’s normal strength.

But it came with a terrible cost: the loss of rationality.

Most Saiyans, especially Low-Class and Mid-Class Warriors, completely lost control of their minds when transformed. They became mindless beasts driven by destruction alone.

Even High-Class Warriors—the pride of Saiyan society—were rarely exceptions.

That was precisely why the Saiyan soldiers on Planet Arant hadn’t chosen to transform.

They knew what would happen if an entire battalion of Ōzaru lost control at once. The pirates would flee—but the planet itself might not survive.

The destructive power of a dozen Great Apes acting without restraint could easily shatter a world’s crust and obliterate its atmosphere.

And worse still, without self-awareness, they might attack one another in confusion—

destroying friend and foe alike.

In the original Dragon Ball canon, there was only one Saiyan who could retain his consciousness while transformed—

the Prince of Saiyans himself: Vegeta.

Even Son Goku, the protagonist, had lost control the first time he experienced the transformation, rampaging mindlessly under the full moon.

It wasn’t until much later—after reaching the stage of Super Saiyan 3—that he accidentally underwent a similar metamorphosis again, this time into the Golden Great Ape.

That radiant form possessed a power far beyond Super Saiyan 3, but even then, Goku could not maintain full control over himself.

Only through countless years of discipline and growth did he finally manage to tame that wild, bestial energy—achieving the ultimate fusion of man and ape:

Super Saiyan 4.

— — —

How strong was Super Saiyan 4, truly?

Even the gods of destruction might struggle to define it.

Kyūjō remembered the old speculative power charts. According to those non-canon calculations, Super Saiyan 3 Goku possessed a power level of roughly twelve billion.

Officially, Super Saiyan 4 was said to surpass that form by a hundredfold—

a staggering 1.2 trillion.

That was power on a scale beyond even Frieza’s empire in its prime.

Of course, by the later stages of Dragon Ball, numerical power levels had long since lost their meaning. When warriors reached that realm, their strength could no longer be measured by any ordinary scale.

Even so, the thought of such limitless evolution ignited a flame within Kyūjō’s chest.

His dark eyes shimmered faintly as he stared up at the distant sky of Planet Arant.

Ōzaru…

He clenched his fists, feeling his Saiyan blood surge within him.

“If I could transform… and still retain my mind…”

A spark of curiosity turned into a dangerous excitement.

“Then maybe… just maybe… I could forge an evolution path of my own.”

“Something different from the original timeline.”

His lips curved into a faint smile.

The idea of defying destiny—the prospect of becoming a Saiyan that even the canon could not predict—made his heart race with anticipation.

And somewhere deep within his soul, the dormant power of his Starforce pulsed gently, resonating with the untamed Saiyan instinct within him.

For Zenin Kyūjō, the next step in his multiversal journey had just begun.

— — —

Night had fallen upon Planet Arant. The air was bitterly cold, easily reaching temperatures equivalent to twenty degrees below zero on Earth.

But the Saiyans, born warriors bred for war and survival, barely noticed the chill.

After their victory in the day’s brutal battle, the camp was alive once more. Laughter echoed across the barren plains as if the deaths of their fallen comrades had already been forgotten.

Around enormous bonfires—each easily ten meters wide—dozens of Saiyan warriors sat in circles, devouring meat and roaring in celebration. The corpses of Arant’s once-feared apex predators now hung above the flames, sizzling and crackling as their flesh roasted.

The mighty beasts of Planet Arant had stood no chance against Saiyan strength. Now, they were nothing more than tonight’s feast.

— — —

While the others drowned themselves in battle wine and the thrill of survival, Kyūjō quietly slipped away.

He wandered toward a nearby forest, where towering trees stretched hundreds of meters into the night sky. Their trunks glowed faintly under the crimson hue of Arant’s twin moons.

With a light jump, Kyūjō landed halfway up one of the massive trees, perching on a thick branch. The cold wind rustled through the leaves as he prepared to rest—when a voice called out behind him.

“Mind if I join you?”

Kyūjō turned his head slightly. A Saiyan warrior stepped out from the shadows—Alec, the Mid-Class Warrior reputed to be the second strongest fighter on Arant after Vic himself.

Unlike most Saiyans, whose wild temper and bloodlust defined their very presence, Alec’s eyes carried a rare calm. His tone was steady, almost human.

“Nice to meet you. 9527… that’s your designation, right?” he asked with a faint smile.

Kyūjō nodded. “That’s right. You can call me that. What’s on your mind, Captain Alec?”

Alec hesitated for a moment, scratching his head as if uncertain whether to ask. Then, deciding against restraint, he spoke plainly.

“About that attack earlier… the energy wave that curved mid-air—how did you do it?”

Kyūjō immediately understood.

He thought for a moment, then began explaining the technique he called his Energy Wave, phrasing it in a way Alec could grasp.

In principle, it wasn’t impossibly complex—but it was far from simple.

To control an energy blast’s trajectory after release required complete mastery over one’s own Ki flow and a mind sharp enough to guide it through raw instinct alone.

And that alone eliminated ninety-nine percent of Saiyans from even attempting it.

For all their natural power and skill in manipulating energy, the Saiyan race was notoriously poor in one area—mental discipline.

They were warriors of emotion and instinct, not of focus or meditation.

Perhaps the only Saiyan who would ever truly excel in that regard, in the far future, was Son Goku himself—after attaining the power of a Super Saiyan.

But Kyūjō was different.

He had long surpassed the boundaries of any single universe. His control over internal energy and mental strength had reached a level beyond ordinary comprehension.

To him, bending an energy blast mid-air wasn’t a miracle of technique. It was little more than a trick—

something trivial, not worth pride or explanation.

— — —

Of course, Alec couldn’t fully grasp what he was being told.

He stared blankly for several seconds, scratching the back of his head, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Kyūjō gave a light shrug and decided to change the subject.

“Captain Alec,” he asked quietly, “how’s Commander Vic’s condition? And… that green-skinned alien—the one leading the pirates. Who is he? Even a High-Class Saiyan couldn’t defeat him?”

The mention of Vic immediately wiped away Alec’s confusion. His expression hardened as he clicked his tongue in frustration.

“Lord Vic’s injuries are bad, but for a Saiyan, that’s nothing serious. With our resilience, he’ll be back on his feet soon enough,” Alec replied. “As for those damned pirates… I have no idea where they came from. The universe is huge, 9527. There’s no telling what kind of monsters crawl out of the dark corners of space.”

He clenched his fists tightly, his voice filled with reluctant admiration.

“That green-skinned bastard is strong, no doubt about that. But don’t underestimate us! Even though Lord Vic lost, his power level rose by almost five hundred points during that fight.”

He flashed a fierce grin. “Just wait, 9527. Once Lord Vic recovers, those space pirates will regret ever crossing the Saiyans!”

Kyūjō chuckled softly but said nothing.

He didn’t share Alec’s optimism.

Even if Vic’s power increased by five hundred and he transformed into a Great Ape—boosting his strength to nearly five thousand—

it still wouldn’t be enough.

The green-skinned enemy, that Namekian-like being, clearly operated on an entirely different level.

— — —

And as Kyūjō had expected, three days later, before his wounds had even fully healed, Vic, the High-Class Saiyan, once again led the charge.

Driven by pride and vengeance, he rallied the surviving Saiyans and stormed the enemy stronghold.

Another battle ignited across the surface of Planet Arant.

But it didn’t last long.

Barely twenty minutes later, the fight was already over—long before Kyūjō had even moved to intervene.

In the distance, a colossal red ape’s body lay sprawled across the battlefield—its head missing.

The Saiyan soldiers froze where they stood, their faces pale with disbelief.

The pirates, in contrast, cheered ecstatically. Their morale surged as they raised their weapons toward the sky, eyes filled with reverence for the green-skinned leader floating above them.

His aura burned like emerald fire—undeniably Namekian.

“All Saiyan troops, retreat immediately! Find your ships and withdraw from Planet Arant!” Alec’s voice roared across the battlefield.

He shot upward, transforming into a streak of golden light as he escaped into the clouds.

— — —

As the surviving Saiyans scattered into the sky and the pirates gave chase, Kyūjō simply stood and watched, a faint smirk curling his lips.

Instead of fleeing toward his ship, he turned in the opposite direction—toward the abandoned Saiyan camp.

A few pirates noticed and pursued him, but Kyūjō led them away from the others, drawing them deep into the wastelands.

Once he was certain no one else was near, he released his restraint.

His aura exploded outward—bright blue lightning swirling around him.

Power Level: 1,900.

Twin spheres of crackling azure energy formed in his hands.

With a flick of his wrists, he unleashed them both—two massive energy waves twisting through the air like serpents before detonating in unison.

The blast vaporized five, maybe six of his pursuers instantly—leaving nothing but ash drifting on the cold wind.

When the silence returned, Kyūjō suppressed his aura once more and returned to camp.

That was when he found it—

exactly what he’d been searching for.

An Artificial Moon Projector.

Or more accurately, an Artificial Blutz Wave Emitter.

A relic of advanced alien technology—designed specifically for Saiyans. When activated, it would project light with the same wavelength and energy pattern as a full moon, replicating the Blutz Waves necessary to trigger Saiyan transformation.

When exposed to those waves, Saiyans underwent a genetic mutation—their power multiplied tenfold, and they became unstoppable, feral beasts of destruction.

In the original Dragon Ball timeline, Saiyans sometimes carried such devices for combat on moonless worlds.

Prince Vegeta himself was one of the few who could create an artificial moon by hand, using concentrated Ki energy.

Other examples included Turles, the rogue Saiyan who consumed the Fruit of the Tree of Might, and Cumber, the infamous “Evil Saiyan” from Dragon Ball Heroes.

But beyond those few, Kyūjō had never heard of anyone else achieving such a feat.

— — —

He waited for hours beside the emitter, ensuring every Saiyan survivor had already departed Planet Arant.

Once the coast was clear, he activated his sensory field, scanning the surroundings for any hidden enemies.

Nothing.

At last, he pressed the control switch.

A mechanical hum filled the air as the device came to life.

A glowing sphere ascended slowly into the crimson night sky—an artificial moon, pale silver against the blood-red horizon.

Kyūjō folded his arms across his chest, watching calmly as the light grew brighter.

Then, the Blutz Waves began to spread.

Invisible energy poured across the planet like a rising tide.

And though Kyūjō’s expression remained composed, his eyes began to glaze over, his body responding instinctively to the radiation above.

His tail twitched violently—then stiffened, absorbing the Blutz energy at an accelerating pace.

A deep, thunderous heartbeat echoed from his chest.

Then another.

And another.

His small frame trembled.

In the next instant—his body exploded in size.

Armor tore apart at the seams. Muscles expanded with terrifying speed. Silver fur burst forth from his skin like wildfire.

Within ten seconds, the transformation was complete.

A towering silver Great Ape, nearly a hundred meters tall, stood amidst the wreckage of the Saiyan encampment.

Unlike Vic’s crimson beast, this Ōzaru’s fur shimmered with a metallic glow beneath the artificial moonlight.

But most striking of all—

its eyes.

They were not the blood-red of mindless rage.

They remained black and white—calm, lucid, aware.

Kyūjō had done it.

He had transformed… and yet, his consciousness remained intact.

— — —

He closed his eyes, feeling every surge of energy within his new body.

A slow, deliberate grin spread across his colossal face.

He was in complete control.

The power coursing through him was overwhelming—

his energy level now soaring past 19,000.

Kyūjō flexed his claws, testing the sheer density of his aura.

Then, with a single leap, he shot into the sky—leaving shockwaves in his wake.

His destination was clear:

the pirate flagship, still hovering high above the planet’s atmosphere.

And his first target in this new form—

the green-skinned leader, the Namekian powerhouse whose strength was rumored to exceed 30,000.

For the first time since arriving in this universe, Zenin Kyūjō was ready to unleash the full, terrifying power of a Saiyan.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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