Chapter 4: Mastering Ki
Turles jolted awake from his healing sleep. According to the flight log, a full day and night had passed.
This was his first real rest since transmigrating into this universe, and for the first time, he felt genuinely relaxed. Like chains had fallen away from his soul, leaving him lighter than air.
On a whim, he tried something he'd been thinking about. He reached inward, searching for his energy—his ki.
And there it was.
Clean. Pure. The sensation was indescribable. Without using his eyes, information simply bloomed in his mind. Every movement of his energy created perfect awareness, even clearer than vision. At this close range, his consciousness captured everything with frightening precision and speed.
Turles started laughing. Unrestrained, wild laughter that echoed through the pod.
His theory had been right. He'd found the method. He could actually sense and control ki.
This breakthrough came entirely from his memories of his previous life. Not just his knowledge of the Dragon Ball plot, but cultural concepts that had shaped the series itself.
When he'd been thinking about Goku's name earlier, it had triggered a realization. Akira Toriyama had drawn heavily from Eastern philosophy when creating the Dragon Ball universe. The very names—Son Goku, Jackie Chun—all pointed to those influences.
If Eastern culture had shaped the series so fundamentally, then surely the concept of unity with nature—of becoming one with the universe—had to be part of the ki system too.
So instead of trying to force his concentration, Turles had done the opposite. He'd let his thoughts drift freely. He'd observed the beauty of space, contemplated the wonders of nature, allowed himself to merge with his environment. To become as quiet as the sky itself.
The best way to join the ocean was to become a single drop of water.
He'd imagined himself as a fish swimming through vast seas, a deer running wild through endless plains. Free. Unbound.
And it had worked. On his very first attempt.
Turles hadn't expected immediate success. Maybe this body had more talent than he'd thought. Or perhaps the fusion of two souls had strengthened his spirit, sharpening his comprehension. Either way, the original Turles had never demonstrated this kind of perceptive ability.
He flexed his awareness, easily manipulating the ki flowing through his body. Warmth spread through his limbs—a sensation completely foreign to his inherited memories. Curious, he began experimenting with different applications.
After some trial and error, he focused on suppressing his energy signature. His ki gradually became still, its flow slowing to a near-imperceptible trickle.
He tapped the button on his scouter.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The display flashed: 0.
"Perfect," Turles breathed.
Then he crushed the scouter in his fist.
He didn't need the device anymore. More importantly, he knew Frieza had surveillance built into every scouter in his army. The moment you activated one, the emperor could monitor everything you said. Keeping it was asking for trouble.
Now that he could freely manipulate his ki signature, he could lower his power reading to undetectable levels—an incredible degree of control that matched even Mr. Popo's mastery.
Turles examined his energy more closely. The quantity had decreased slightly—down to around 1,000—but the quality had improved dramatically. If his previous ki had been like loose cotton, it was now cotton soaked in water. Smaller in volume, but far denser and heavier.
Satisfied, he nodded to himself and settled back into the pod's seat, maintaining his zero power level as he drifted back into sleep mode. He was actually looking forward to Planet Vampa now.
Planet Vampa.
Paragus was preparing dinner—if you could call it that. The severed leg of some massive insect. On this miserable rock, bugs were the only food source.
"BROLY!" Paragus suddenly roared, hurling the carcass away in disgust.
A massive figure emerged from the cave behind him. Broly silently picked up the discarded insect leg and continued preparing it, his expression focused and calm.
Growing up on Vampa had taught Broly to respect food. He never wasted a single scrap, no matter how unappetizing.
Eighteen years. Eighteen years Paragus had been stranded on this wasteland, and he still couldn't stand it. Every single day, he fantasized about returning to Planet Vegeta. He'd bring Broly back with him, let the boy brutally murder that bastard King Vegeta, and then claim the Saiyan throne for himself. Hell, they could rename the planet. Planet Paragus had a nice ring to it.
With Broly's power, he wouldn't just rule the Saiyans—he'd become emperor of the entire universe. Frieza, that little tyrant, wouldn't stand a chance. The whole cosmos would kneel before them.
Lost in his delusions of grandeur, Paragus didn't notice the white attack pod streaking across the sky, descending toward the far side of the planet.
Broly tapped his father's shoulder, eyes fixed on the distant white streak.
"Broly, stop bothering me! Handle it yourself!" Paragus swatted his son's hand away irritably.
When Broly kept tapping insistently, Paragus spun around in anger. "Broly, you—"
The words died in his throat. Following his son's gaze, he saw something from his memories. Something that shouldn't exist on this forsaken world.
For a moment, Paragus stood frozen in disbelief. Then he erupted into manic laughter, slapping Broly's shoulder. "Broly! We're saved! We can finally leave this place!"
Without waiting for a response, Paragus launched himself into the air, flying toward the pod's landing site.
Broly didn't understand why his father was so desperate to leave. He had no memory of the outside world, couldn't imagine what civilization was like. Since gaining consciousness, this planet had been his entire universe.
But Broly always obeyed his father. So he took flight as well, following Paragus into the wasteland.
Moments later, Broly landed at the edge of a massive crater. Paragus was already inside, frantically searching for something.
"Why? Why isn't it here? Where's the ship?" Paragus sounded on the verge of hysteria.
Broly stood at the crater's rim, watching silently. He didn't know what a ship was, so he couldn't help.
"So that's Broly."
Far away, hidden behind a rock formation with his ki completely suppressed, Turles observed the pair intently.
He'd been jolted awake before reaching Vampa, giving him time to prepare. Knowing Paragus was a true Saiyan—cold-blooded, ruthless, viewing even his own son as a tool—Turles had immediately hidden his ship in a remote location the moment he'd landed.
Good thing too. He'd barely finished concealing it when he'd sensed two massive ki signatures rapidly approaching. Returning to the landing site, he'd found exactly who he'd expected: Paragus and Broly.
Seeing Paragus without a scouter surprised him briefly, but then he realized—with Vampa's eighteen-year isolation and outdated technology, Paragus's old model had probably exploded years ago trying to read Broly's ever-growing power level.
More importantly, seeing Broly's face confirmed which version of the character this was. The Super continuity, not the old movies. That meant Broly wasn't an irredeemable psychopath—yet. His life was still salvageable.
Still, Turles needed to observe more before making contact.
Returning to the cave he'd claimed as temporary shelter, Turles couldn't help his expression shifting to pure envy.
"Absolutely monstrous talent," he muttered.
Paragus's power level hovered around 20,000—impressive for an elite-class warrior from the old days. That was within expectations.
But Broly? The kid was only eighteen years old. His power level already exceeded 500,000. Even accounting for him being the Legendary Super Saiyan, this was absurd. There had to be limits, didn't there? Some kind of logical progression?
Turles had estimated Broly's strength by comparing it to what he'd felt from Frieza. The exact number was impossible to pin down, but it was definitely over half a million.
And this was just from sparring with Paragus. Once Broly started fighting real opponents—as long as they didn't kill him instantly—his power would skyrocket even higher.
The kid's battle instincts were equally terrifying. In the original timeline, just fighting Goku and Vegeta had taught him to sense ki. Then, after going berserk, he'd beaten Golden Frieza like a drum. The more Turles thought about it, the more hopeless it seemed.
But Paragus's broken scouter presented an opportunity. Without the ability to measure power levels, maybe Turles could risk making direct contact with Broly. According to the source material, Broly was incredibly pure-hearted and naive. With the right approach, he could become a powerful ally.
Grimacing with disgust, Turles took a bite from the roasted leg of the cave's former occupant—some unfortunate giant insect. As he chewed the foul-tasting meat, he made his decision.
Tomorrow, he'd make his move.