The ship cut silently through the endless black of space. Stars streaked past like pale spears of light, their glow fading into the cold vacuum behind them. For over a month, it had been like this — an unbroken journey across lifeless systems, the sound of the ship's hum filling the silence that stretched between its two inhabitants.
Razor stood in the training bay, the faint light from the ship's console flickering over his features. He wasn't training on any techniques; he couldn't afford to. A few misplaced blows could rupture the ship's hull, and even his power, restrained as it was, could threaten its stability. Instead, he fought the holograms as usual.
He moved with precision — slow, measured strikes, each punch deliberate and refined. His control had sharpened immensely since leaving Earth. The raw ferocity that once defined his fighting had been tempered, now more efficient. His base strength alone had grown significantly, enough to make the air tremble faintly with each movement.
But that wasn't what consumed him.
The real focus lay elsewhere — on something he'd been chasing since the moment he woke after his defeat on Earth.
A new technique.
It wasn't something he could practice freely. Not in the confines of steel walls and pressurized air. Inside the ship, he studied the application behind it — tracing energy flow, practicing control, meditating on the sequences that might stabilize it. Every movement had to be precise; one mistake and he could destroy himself before it even took form.
Whenever the ship stopped on a planet to resupply, he would vanish. No explanation, no word to 18. He'd seek out the emptiest region he could find — craters, desolate plains, wastelands — and practice there.
The first time, the explosion had carved a crater a hundred meters wide. The second, he'd managed to contain it — barely. But every time he tried, the same wall stopped him: his body couldn't yet sustain it.
It wasn't just power he needed. It was balance — mastery, control.
Android 18 sat with her legs propped up on the console, flipping idly through a digital magazine as the stars glided by. Her patience was wearing thin.
"You know," she said, not looking up, "this ship's been quieter than a graveyard for a month. You ever think about maybe talking to the only person here?"
Razor, standing across the room with his arms crossed, didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the holographic display — the planet ahead slowly rotating into view.
"Xirx," he muttered, reading the scan. "Atmosphere thin, terrain unstable, no life detected."
"Perfect vacation spot," she said dryly. "You planning to tan or just punch rocks for fun after fighting the alien living on the planet?"
He gave her a glance — expression flat. Fist clenched. This woman just couldn't remain quiet.
"Oh, wonderful." She leaned back, sarcasm dripping. "Another one of your death quests. I am so excited to watch you fight to death, after all I missed all the show on Earth"
He ignored her and started checking the armor's seals. The routine was familiar: strap, lock, test. His movements were automatic, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension.
"You really think there's something down there?" she asked, more serious now.
Razor's gaze didn't waver. "I don't just think. I know."
When the ship finally descended into Xirx's atmosphere, the world below unfolded like a scar across the cosmos — an ocean of stone and sand, fractured mountains rising like jagged blades. The air shimmered faintly under the heat, carrying the scent of dust and iron.
The landing was rough, the terrain unstable, but the ship's stabilizers held. When the engines powered down, silence reclaimed the world.
Razor stood at the ramp, fastening the last piece of his armor. The faint whir of servos and metal echoed in the stillness. From his belt, he took a small pouch and tucked it beneath his chest plate — the senzu beans. He didn't plan to eat them, but he wasn't foolish enough to ignore their value.
Behind him, 18's voice broke the quiet, angry.
"What do you mean I should stay inside? You really think I'm staying here while you go play monster hunter?"
He didn't turn. "You are. And its final."
She stepped closer, annoyance flashing in her eyes. "Not happening. I'm not your prisoner, remember? I can fight just fine."
"I don't doubt that," Razor said evenly. "But I don't need your help."
"Don't or can't admit you want it?" she shot back.
He turned then, his expression unreadable. "Pride isn't something I sacrifice. Not for anyone. My battles are mine alone."
Her lips curled into a smirk. "Wow. You really are impossible. So you'd rather die than let someone save your ass."
"Exactly," he said coldly.
Before she could respond, he transformed into his super saiyan form, his hand moved — blindingly fast. A sharp crack of impact, and the world tilted around her. Her knees buckled as darkness swept over her vision. The last thing she saw was the flicker of his eyes — cold, determined, yet… fleetingly conflicted.
He caught her before she hit the floor and carried her inside, placing her on the couch. His hand lingered for a brief moment before he turned away.
"It's not your fight," he said quietly.
Then he left.
The world outside was vast and silent.
Razor stepped onto the rocky surface, the ship shrinking behind him as he flew toward the horizon. The air was thin, the gravity heavier than Earth's, and the ground cracked beneath his boots with each step. He raised his head slightly, focusing.
There it was — a pulse. Distant but powerful.
The creature.
He could feel it like a drumbeat through the planet's crust. It wasn't hiding. It was waiting.
Razor rose into the air, flying low across the jagged plains. The mountains stretched endlessly, casting long shadows under the pale light of Xirx's two suns. He could sense it getting closer — the energy flaring, shifting, moving rapidly.
Then, the ground trembled.
A deep rumble rolled across the valley. The distant horizon began to blur, a wave of dust rising — faint at first, then enormous.
A storm of debris tore through the air, reaching toward the sky like a living wall. Razor slowed, hovering just above the surface as his eyes narrowed.
It wasn't a storm.
It was a trail.
Something was moving — impossibly fast, tearing across the surface with such force that the very air burned in its wake.
And then he saw it.
The creature burst from the haze like a missile — all muscles, lean, powerful and speed.
It moved on six limbs — four arms and two legs, each tipped with claws long and curved like blades. Every motion was efficient, brutally precise. Its body was lean but heavily muscled, its armor-like hide rippling under the strain of motion. The plating across its back gleamed faintly, etched with dark ridges that seemed to shift as it ran.
Its head was unlike anything Razor had seen — elongated, aerodynamic, stretching backward into four spear-like horns. Where eyes should have been, there was only smooth flesh — pale and pulsing faintly with every breath. The creature didn't see him. It felt him — the air pressure, the scent, the heat of his energy.
A predator built and evolved for one purpose: to hunt.
The dust storm followed it like a cloak, swallowing the landscape behind.
Razor's heartbeat quickened. Not with fear — but anticipation.
"So this is what you are," he murmured, voice low. "Instinct made flesh."
The creature screeched — a sound that split the air, deep and guttural, echoing across the barren land.
Razor smirked. "Let's see if instinct can keep up with evolution."
He clenched his fists — the ground cracking beneath him — and launched forward, the air around him rippling from sheer force.
Above the scarred plains of Xirx, the storm of dust and lightning collided — Saiyan and monster, hunter and prey, neither willing to yield.
The battle had begun.