Among all anime, Dragon Ball undoubtedly stands at the peak—its passion unmatched, its power levels second to none.
Gran, having arrived in this world as a Saiyan, refused to fade into mediocrity. In such a hot-blooded world, he would not die like an insect crushed by the aftermath of someone else's battle.
He too longed for the thrill of combat—the rush of breaking through limits, the ecstasy of standing atop the pyramid and gazing down at all creation.
And most of all—Vegeta. That bastard had nearly gotten him killed the moment he transmigrated here. Gran swore he'd beat that arrogant prince until his teeth littered the ground.
Of course, to do any of that, he needed power—real, overwhelming power.
And now, he had a chance.
Whis—the son of the Grand Priest. Servant of Beerus, yet also his teacher.
If Beerus was that powerful, part of the credit certainly belonged to Whis.
Whis was born a guide, a being whose power was unfathomable. If there were anyone in the universe suited to be Gran's master, it could only be Whis.
Seeing Whis remain silent, Gran spoke again, "I won't ask you to teach me for free. From now on, all your meals will be on me. That's my payment—what do you say?"
Gran bowed low. Was it shameful?
Hell no.
Even Goku and Vegeta had humbled themselves far more when they begged Whis and Beerus for training.
If they could do it, why couldn't he?
This was Whis we're talking about!
Forget just cooking for him—if Whis really agreed to train him, Gran would streak naked around the Destroyer Realm if that's what it took!
But Whis still said nothing, and anxiety began to gnaw at Gran.
No way... had he still not conquered the angel's stomach? That couldn't be!
Just as despair crept in
"Very well."
Whis nodded lightly.
Gran froze. Then, realization hit him—he did it!
"Thank you, Mr. Whis!"
He jumped up and down, giddy with excitement.
Whis's lips curled faintly at the boy's enthusiasm.
If he hadn't intended to let Gran stay in the Destroyer Realm, he wouldn't have brought him here in the first place.
The dimensional irregularities surrounding Gran were too strange. Whis's curiosity was piqued—he wanted to see just what secrets this little Saiyan held.
Of course, that "payment" Gran mentioned wouldn't be forgotten either.
"I did agree to guide your training," Whis said suddenly, "but your stay here may not last long."
"?"
Gran froze mid-celebration. His tiny brows furrowed. What did Whis mean?
"You've read the Saiyan clan's records," Whis continued, glancing toward Beerus's temple. "Then you know—the ruler of the Destroyer Realm is none other than the God of Destruction himself."
Gran instantly understood. "You mean… once Lord Beerus wakes up, he'll drive me out?"
"Drive you out?"
Whis shook his head and gave a small, knowing smile. "With Lord Beerus's hatred for Saiyans, he might just destroy you instead."
At that word—destroy—Gran felt a chill race down his spine.
"Destruction" was Beerus's signature technique—one that erased anything weaker than him from existence.
Once destroyed, even Shenron couldn't bring it back.
(Of course, Super Shenron was another story.)
Gran recalled Beerus's magnificent use of the "Destruction" technique, and his fear melted into exhilaration.
If Whis agreed to train him, then he had to learn that move too!
No—he would learn everything Whis knew!
As Gran's expression shifted from dread to excitement, Whis's lips twitched.
What was this boy even thinking? Shouldn't he be terrified of Beerus waking up?
Why did he look so eager instead?
"I'm not afraid," Gran suddenly said, his tone innocent but confident. "From what I know, Lord Beerus loves food too, right?"
Whis blinked.
Gran grinned. "If even you, Mr. Whis, were won over by my cooking, I don't believe Lord Beerus could resist either!"
Boom!
Whis's heart skipped a beat.
The boy was right. Knowing Beerus's obsession with food… he would spare Gran just to keep eating his meals!
No, this was bad!
That would mean Whis wouldn't get to enjoy all the good food alone anymore!
"Mr. Whis, what's wrong?" Gran asked, hiding a smirk—he knew exactly what the angel was thinking.
"You…"
Whis gave him a look full of mock resentment. "You're quite the perceptive little Saiyan, aren't you?"
Gran wisely kept quiet.
"Enough. Rest for today," Whis said at last. "I'll begin your training tomorrow. And don't forget about that 'payment' you mentioned."
"Yes, sir."
Gran exhaled in relief—thankfully, Whis didn't press the matter further.
With a flick of Whis's staff, a small house appeared by the lake.
And thus, Gran officially took up residence in the Realm of the Destroyer.
Frieza Headquarters
This planet radiated technological power. Inside a vast palace
"Lord Frieza, Prince Vegeta has completed the planetary purge," reported a handsome man. It was Zarbon.
"Hmm. Don't give him time to rest. Send him on another mission immediately," Frieza said lazily from his floating pod.
His body was encased in white armor-like bio plating, his eyes blood-red, lips dark purple, and two tear-like lines ran beneath his eyes—pure evil personified.
"Yes, Lord Frieza," Zarbon hesitated.
Frieza narrowed his eyes, his tone raspy. "What is it?"
"Lord Frieza… one of Vegeta's team members is missing."
"Oh?"
Zarbon continued, "According to the scouter recordings, the Saiyan was named Gran. He was ambushed by a native and heavily injured. Vegeta abandoned him."
"Hohohoho~~"
Frieza's laughter slithered through the air like a venomous snake.
Zarbon shivered. He dared not speak further—one wrong word could make him the next victim.
"Fascinating," Frieza chuckled. "So few Saiyans left, and yet their 'prince' still abandons his own kind. Cold-blooded—and stupid!"
He laughed so hard that tears welled beneath his eyes. "Don't you agree, Zarbon?"
Cold-blooded? Zarbon thought. Who's more cold-blooded than you?
Out loud, he forced a laugh. "Indeed, Lord Frieza. Such foolish creatures could never produce a 'Legendary Super Saiyan.'"
Frieza nodded in satisfaction. "Precisely. Such a foolish race could never spawn a being like that. Well said, Zarbon. You may leave."
"Yes, my lord."
Zarbon bowed and hurried out of the palace, unwilling to remain near the volatile tyrant.
Sure enough, the moment he exited, Frieza's sinister laughter echoed once more.
Zarbon trembled, not daring to look back, and flew off as fast as he could.
Elsewhere
Five-year-old Vegeta had just returned to Frieza's base when his scouter beeped with yet another mission.
His small face twisted in fury. "Damn it! Frieza's really using me as free labor!"
Raditz asked nervously, "What's wrong?"
"Shut up! Get on the ship!" Vegeta barked. "And listen well—don't hold me back. Or you'll end up like Gran!"
Still untouched by Bulma's influence, the young Vegeta was cruel and ruthless. His words made his team shudder.
"Y-yes, sir!"
Several small ships flared with fire and shot into the skies, disappearing from Frieza's base.