Chapter 6: Facing Broly
"Broly, why are you still following me?"
Sensing the massive ki signature behind him, Turles sighed and stopped flying. He turned to face the approaching giant with resignation.
Over the past month, his relationship with Broly had improved dramatically. With his past-life knowledge, manipulating the innocent Broly had been almost too easy. They were actually friends now.
Broly's situation was genuinely pitiful. Born with 10,000 battle power—a prodigy among prodigies. Any other race would have treasured such a warrior, protected him, invested everything in his growth. He could have been the salvation of his entire species.
The universe was cruel. Survival of the fittest was the most basic law, and darkness was the only constant. You never knew when invaders might arrive to enslave your people, destroy your home, end your life.
But King Vegeta's thought process had been truly bizarre. Instead of celebrating this gift, he'd seen Broly as a threat to Prince Vegeta's position. So he'd exiled the baby to Vampa, this desolate rock, throwing away the Saiyans' best chance at a real future.
Some claimed King Vegeta had been preparing his rebellion against Frieza and wanted to preserve some Saiyan bloodlines as insurance. But Turles knew better. Having fully absorbed all of Turles's memories, he understood the Saiyan race too well.
Forget whether King Vegeta had that kind of foresight—the Saiyan breeding system itself had fundamental flaws.
To maintain their warrior culture, female Saiyans didn't raise their own children. All infants were grown in incubation chambers. While the nutrient baths compensated for physical deficiencies and implanted combat knowledge, they also prevented normal parent-child bonding. Combined with the violent instincts encoded in Saiyan DNA, most adult Saiyans were emotionally stunted and self-centered.
People who felt nothing for their own families weren't going to sacrifice for their species. King Vegeta had simply eliminated a rival to his son's throne.
But those eighteen years of isolation had left Broly surprisingly pure. Maybe because King Vegeta feared future revenge—the infant Broly had never received the standard combat memory implants. His personality resembled Goku's in some ways. He valued Turles's friendship deeply.
Though sometimes Broly's innocence was exasperating.
"Turles, stop bullying Dad," Broly said earnestly.
"He's YOUR dad, not mine! And I'm not bullying him—we're sparring. You know what sparring is, right?" Turles felt his eye twitch.
That old bastard Paragus. Couldn't handle getting beaten up anymore, so he'd sent his son to guilt-trip Turles into stopping. Meanwhile, Paragus himself was hiding.
'When I find you, you're dead.' Turles thought darkly.
This past month of constant fighting had pushed Turles's power level past 10,000, reaching 12,000—roughly equal to Vegeta's current strength. Combined with his ki sensing abilities, Paragus couldn't beat him anymore.
Honestly, doubling his power in a month was shocking. Given his mediocre talent—a low-class warrior who'd needed the Spirit Tree fruit just to compete with pre-Namek Goku—this growth rate seemed impossible.
Turles didn't fully understand why, but he wasn't complaining. More power was always good.
"Then I'll spar with you!" Broly suddenly declared with absolute seriousness.
Turles went silent. "If I could beat you, would I be picking on Paragus? Do you not understand how strong you are?"
Actually, that might be exactly the problem. Broly probably didn't have any real self-awareness.
Turles felt even more depressed.
But after thinking it over... maybe this wasn't a terrible idea? He and Broly were on good terms now. One sparring match with Broly could provide serious benefits.
"Fine. But you have to hold back," Turles agreed.
They found an empty clearing and squared off.
Standing across from Broly, Turles felt his emotions surge.
Facing Broly now felt completely different from facing Frieza. Both had power levels around 500,000, but instead of fear, Turles felt anticipation. His Saiyan blood was singing for battle.
They didn't attack immediately, just watched each other. Turles raised his ki to maximum—though compared to Broly, it was nothing.
A gust of wind blew past.
Turles attacked first.
He exploded forward at top speed, fists clenched and ready. In an eyeblink, he closed the distance. His foot slammed into the ground, and he launched a devastating uppercut at Broly's face.
The punch carried all his strength and momentum. It connected solidly with Broly's jaw.
Turles almost smiled—then his expression froze. Broly hadn't moved at all. Not even a centimeter.
Pain erupted in Turles's abdomen.
"Ugh!" He looked down. Broly's fist was buried in his stomach. Fighting through the agony, Turles grabbed Broly's wrist and executed a perfect throw, slamming the giant into the ground hard enough to create a crater.
But as Broly lay there, his expression changed. The gentle, simple look vanished. In its place came absolute coldness. His icy eyes cut toward Turles like knives.
With a burst of ki, Broly rocketed upward, taking Turles with him. Reversing his grip on Turles's wrist, Broly began hammering him with a rain of devastating blows.
Turles desperately tried to dodge while struggling to break free. Regret flooded through him.
Serious Broly was completely beyond his current level. This wasn't even the same weight class. And judging by Broly's expression, he was teetering on the edge of losing control.
"BROLY!" After blocking another punch that left his entire arm numb, Turles finally shouted his friend's name.
Hearing his voice, Broly's assault paused for a split second. Seizing that precious moment, Turles wrenched himself free and shot backward, putting distance between them.
Hovering in midair, Turles couldn't help wincing. His whole body felt like it had been disassembled and reassembled wrong. In just a few seconds, Broly had nearly beaten him to death.
Turles didn't dare provoke him further. He stayed at a safe distance, watching carefully. If Broly showed any sign of going berserk, Turles was prepared to flee immediately.
Fortunately, Broly didn't escalate. Without Turles to fight, his ki signature began dropping. The cold expression faded, replaced by his usual gentle demeanor.
Still not taking chances, Turles observed for several minutes before cautiously approaching. Only when he reached Broly's side did he finally relax. "Broly, were you trying to kill me?" He shook out his tingling arm.
Broly looked genuinely remorseful. "Sorry, Turles. I don't know what happened. After you hit me, I just felt so angry. Are you okay?"
Turles had known about Broly's emotional instability, but experiencing it firsthand was different. One friendly sparring match had almost gotten him killed. Still, he couldn't blame Broly—he'd agreed to the fight.
Now that feeling was returning to his limbs, Turles stopped complaining. Instead, he looked at Broly seriously. "Broly, your problem is serious. You need to learn to control your emotions. We're supposed to be masters of our power, not the other way around."
Broly scratched his head awkwardly, looking confused. Turles's words were too complicated. Broly was functionally illiterate—that bastard Paragus had never taught him to read or write, only how to fight. Turles had even had to teach him how to write his own name.
Looking at Broly's innocent expression, it was hard to believe that cold, emotionless face had appeared just moments ago. Turles shook his head and dropped the subject.
After sending Broly back to find his father, Turles returned to his cave.
Once there, he stripped off his armor and examined the bruises covering his torso. Great.
While massaging the worst of them, trying to stimulate blood flow and healing, he replayed the fight in his mind.
The battle had been brutally short, but its impact on Turles was enormous. A month of power growth had made him cocky enough to think sparring with Broly was a good idea. Thank god it hadn't gone worse, or he might have actually died. He didn't have Instant Transmission—no way to escape Broly's speed.
Still, the experience wasn't completely worthless. All the injuries from his month of fighting Paragus combined didn't equal what Broly had inflicted today. The pressure wasn't even comparable. Once he recovered from these wounds, his power should spike higher than any previous increase.
For a moment, Turles actually considered fighting Broly again.
"Nngh!" He grunted as his massage hit a particularly bad bruise, and the pain snapped him back to reality. He shook his head violently, banishing the dangerous thought.
"Am I developing masochistic tendencies? What's wrong with me? Steady progression works just fine!"
After confirming he wasn't secretly a battle junkie seeking abuse, Turles continued treating his injuries. Periodic grunts of pain echoed through the cave as he worked.