The palace banquet hall blazed with light and noise.
Saiyans celebrated Prince Vegeta's birth in grand style. The air was thick with roasted exotic beasts, fiery liquor, and that uniquely rough Saiyan atmosphere.
Mid- and high-class warriors drank and laughed boisterously, yet their eyes kept drifting toward the high seat above.
Prince Vegeta, only four years old, sat on a custom throne chair. Even at that age, his presence was astonishing—his face already stamped with arrogance far beyond his years, along with a hint of impatience.
He wore a perfectly tailored miniature battle suit, arms crossed, scanning the crowd.
King Vegeta beamed, proudly introducing his treasured son to his inner circle.
Future royal guards Nappa and Raditz stood nearby, tense and eager… except one.
Vitli was crouched in the corner, eating like a starved beast.
To him, these scenes full of flattery and fake respect were boring beyond measure.
He grabbed a plate and—like a real four-year-old, if you ignored the build—focused entirely on demolishing the food.
The taste was still awful, even with palace chefs working their miracles, but the energy inside it was real.
He was in a critical growth stage. Might as well feed hard.
Vegeta watched him with narrowing eyes.
Especially that casual nod—then running off to eat—felt like a direct insult.
He was Prince Vegeta, a genius born with over a thousand battle power!
Who did this guard think he was, acting so indifferent?
Vegeta was just about to go pick a fight when King Vegeta loudly announced the banquet's official start. The hall got even louder.
Nappa and Raditz rushed to Vegeta's side, showering him with praise, hoping to win favor.
In their tiny brains, earning the young prince's trust meant a straight path to glory.
Vegeta listened coldly, gaze locked on the glutton in the corner.
"Raditz."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried cutting authority. The hall quieted slightly.
He pointed at Vitli.
"What's that guy's name?"
Raditz jolted and bowed fast.
"Prince Vegeta! His name is Vitli! I heard his parents were upper-class warriors who died on a mission. He was born with five hundred battle power—definitely a high-class warrior! But…"
Raditz paused, contempt leaking into his tone.
"He doesn't seem ambitious. He keeps himself locked at home training his body and almost never goes out to challenge other warriors."
"What? Training his body?"
Vegeta scoffed as if hearing a joke.
"Born with only five hundred battle power and called a high-class warrior?"
His baby face twisted with icy mockery.
"A bug like that dares act arrogant? A high-class warrior who still needs to train like a low-class grunt? And he dares not show respect to me?!"
He sprang to his feet, small body radiating pressure.
"Raditz! Tell him to meet me at the palace training grounds after the banquet. I'll show him what real power is!"
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Raditz hurried over to the corner.
Nappa, confused, rumbled from the side.
"Prince, why bother? If you don't like him, I'll just crush him right now."
He cracked his knuckles, eager.
"Idiot!"
Vegeta whirled and roared. The entire hall snapped silent.
Vegeta's face flushed red with fury.
"Use that brain you don't have! Look at his battle power with the scouter you wear as a decoration!"
Nappa froze, then quickly adjusted his scouter and aimed it at Vitli.
Beep… beep… beep…
The numbers jumped, then stabilized.
Nappa's eyes bulged.
"Two… two thousand eight hundred?!"
He blurted it out, sweat exploding across his forehead.
"I'm over twenty and barely three thousand. He's four years old and already almost three thousand?!"
If he'd lunged earlier… he'd be dead.
He looked at the prince with grateful awe.
Vegeta ignored him.
He sat back down, eyes burning with fierce war intent.
"Go tell him. I'll be waiting. Don't let him run."
Vegeta rose and stalked out, leaving stunned guests behind.
Nappa and Raditz followed, both wary of the quiet "monster" Vitli—and excited to see their prince's power.
Surely a three-thousand-power kid who never fought was an ant before the battle-hardened prince… right?
When Vitli finally strolled into the empty royal training ground, stuffed and unhurried, Vegeta was already waiting.
The tiny prince stood with his back to the entrance, arms crossed, looking like he owned the universe.
Nappa and Raditz stood at the edge, silent.
"You came, Vitli." Vegeta turned, eyes cold and superior.
"I heard you were born with five hundred battle power. Now… three thousand. Not bad."
His mockery was naked.
"Ha ha ha! But a coward who never fights—how much of that power can you really use? In front of me, you don't even qualify as a warm-up!"
Vitli looked at him calmly, expression almost blank.
"Your Highness flatters me. May I ask why you summoned me?"
Vegeta's mouth curled dangerously.
"Simple. I want to see what you're worth. Use all your strength and attack me. Let me see what your pathetic 'training' has produced."
Before the words finished, Vegeta vanished.
An air-splitting boom marked his speed.
His fist tore forward for Vitli's face, packed with terrifying force.
Vegeta's eyes shone with cruel delight, already picturing a broken nose and blood.
He watched Vitli, waiting to see panic.
Then his smile froze.
Vitli slid aside at the last possible instant.
The punch grazed his hair, ruffling black strands.
"W-what?!"
Vegeta's second fist whipped across.
Vitli stepped lightly—again dodging like a ghost.
"Is all you can do dodge, you bastard?!"
Vegeta exploded, unleashing a storm of punches and kicks. Each strike could pulverize the ground.
Vitli moved like a leaf on a hurricane sea—always within a hair's breadth of death, yet always slipping away.
His motion was controlled, efficient, almost rhythmic.
"That… that can't be!"
Nappa and Raditz stared slack-jawed.
Where was the prince's overwhelming crush?
Why did it look like the prince was being toyed with?
Wasn't Vitli someone who never fought?
Then Vegeta's breath wavered. A tiny opening appeared.
Vitli moved.
His blurred figure surged forward faster than Vegeta could track.
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud!
A chain of rapid impacts exploded like firecrackers.
Vegeta's vision flashed white.
Pain erupted across his face, head, and body in a dense barrage.
Vitli's fists were beyond his reaction limit—each strike landing on weak points, not heavy but piercing and precise.
Vegeta staggered back, yelping.
When he steadied himself, his head rang and his face burned.
He touched his forehead.
Several big swollen bumps were already rising.
Vitli grinned like Vegeta had earlier and teased,
"Huh? Why's your head so pointy?"
"B-BASTARD!!!"
Vegeta snapped completely.
His childish voice twisted with fury and humiliation.
Eyes red, he glared at Vitli—who hadn't even changed his breathing.
"Why?! Why are you this strong?!"
He couldn't understand.
He was a once-in-ten-thousand Saiyan genius.
Vitli never fought anyone.
So why couldn't Vegeta hit him? Why could Vitli hit him so easily?
That ghost-like footwork… those terrifyingly precise strikes… three thousand battle power couldn't explain this.
Vitli casually shook his wrist, as if he'd just warmed up.
"So powerful, Your Highness. That attack almost hurt me."
The flat tone was sharper than any insult.
"Vitli!"
Raditz finally recovered and rushed to steady Vegeta, yelling at Vitli with fake bravery.
"You dare disrespect the prince! Do you know what you're doing?!"
Vitli's smile stayed, but his eyes cooled.
"Disrespect? Don't frame me, Raditz."
He turned to Vegeta, voice almost playful.
"I was only obeying His Highness's order to fight with all I had. After all, you're the legendary genius. How could I not go all out?"
Vegeta shoved Raditz aside, forcing himself upright.
He stared at Vitli like he wanted to devour him.
"Powerful? You call this powerful?!"
He pointed at his swollen head, voice shaking.
"Tell me! What are you?! Your battle power is only three thousand! You've never fought anyone! How did you do this?!"
Vitli looked at the prince whose pride he'd crushed, feeling nothing.
He shook his head, not answering directly.
"My strength… is nothing worth mentioning."
Light words—heavy as a hammer.
He'd beaten Vegeta senseless… and still said it was nothing?
Vitli turned and walked away.
His calm steps carried a hidden pressure that made the air feel thick.
"Call me when we have missions."
He didn't look back.
"Other than that… don't disturb me."
Boom!
He kicked off, blasting through the ceiling in a deafening sonic crack, leaving a human-shaped hole in the alloy roof.
He became a streak of light and vanished into the dark sky.
Dust and rubble rained down.
The training ground went dead silent.
Vegeta clutched his aching face, staring at the hole above, eyes filled with confusion.
Humiliation gnawed at him… and somewhere deep inside, a flicker of doubt about his own power—alongside a new, burning hunger for strength.
Nappa and Raditz knelt, shaken speechless.
"R-Raditz…"
Vegeta's hoarse voice broke the silence as he turned slowly.
"You said… he's been training at home… that whole time?"
"Y-yes, Your Highness!" Raditz answered, trembling.
Vegeta fell silent for a long while, fists clenched until nails cut into his palms.
Then the humiliation hardened into obsessive fire.
"Go. Find out everything."
His voice turned icy, absolute.
"Every method he uses. Where he trains. What equipment. Every scrap of information. Not a single detail missed."
"I want to know… how he became that kind of monster."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Nappa and Raditz bowed hard.
They didn't understand it yet, but today's fight had already altered Prince Vegeta's path—and theirs.
Vegeta stared at the hole again as if trying to see Vitli through it.
The pain of crushed pride twisted into a blazing desire.
"Vitli…"
He whispered the name, eyes burning.
"Just wait. I'll beat you. I'll show you who the real genius is."