Chapter 1: A Peaceful Morning

  The Asraioth Kingdom was unlike any other. Unlike the warring Saiyan empires, it stood as a symbol of discipline, strength, and prosperity. Gogeta, only eight years old, awoke to the distant echoes of warriors training beyond the towering walls of their city. The smell of grilled meat and fresh bread filled the air as he sat up, his wild black hair a mess from sleep.

  Bumma, his mother, stood in the open-air kitchen, her back to him, gracefully preparing their meal. She was the embodiment of power and beauty, her golden eyes gleaming as she worked. Gogeta’s stomach growled, and he grinned as he tried to sneak a piece of meat from the table.

  “I saw that,” Bumma said without turning, smirking.

  “Aw, come on, Mom, I’m starving!” Gogeta whined.

  Bumma chuckled and handed him a plate. “A warrior needs patience as much as strength, Gogeta.”

  As they ate, Gogeta kicked his legs under the table, his mind elsewhere. “Mom, do you think I’ll ever be as strong as you?”

  Bumma’s golden gaze softened. “Strength comes from experience, not just power. You have a long way to go.”

  Gogeta frowned but didn’t argue. He would prove himself soon enough.

  ---

  Chapter 2: The Saiyan Marketplace

  After breakfast, Bumma and Gogeta made their way through the Saiyan marketplace, where warriors gathered in their battle-worn armor. The elite warriors, cloaked in black and crimson, stood like titans among the rest. Vendors shouted, selling rare meats from distant worlds, exotic fruits, and powerful battle gear.

  As they passed, Bumma was met with many respectful nods. Some older Saiyan males tried to flirt with her, calling her the “Queen of Warriors.” She dismissed them effortlessly, her presence commanding. Gogeta watched, confused as to why so many admired his mother.

  The marketplace buzzed with primal energy. Saiyans clad in battle-scarred armor haggled over slabs of roasted meat from alien beasts, their jagged bones still steaming. Vendors bellowed, hawking crystalline fruits that glowed like miniature stars and weaponry forged from meteorite ore. Gogeta’s nose twitched at the acrid scent of smoldering dragonhide armor being repaired nearby, while his mother strode ahead, her crimson sash rippling like a banner. Warriors twice her size stepped aside, fists pressed to their chests in salute.

  “Queen of Warriors!” called a grizzled vendor, bowing as Bumma passed his stall. “A gift for the boy—to fuel his growth!” He tossed Gogeta a skewer of seared meat dripping with spicy nectar. Gogeta caught it, grinning, but Bumma’s hand clamped his wrist before he could bite.

  “Patience,” she reminded, her golden eyes glinting. “A warrior’s first lesson: never let hunger cloud judgment.”

  Gogeta groaned but obeyed, tucking the skewer into his belt. As they moved deeper, the crowd thickened. Elite Saiyans in obsidian armor prowled like predators, their insignias—a bleeding star—marking them as members of the royal guard. Gogeta’s heart raced as they neared the colosseum.

  The training grounds loomed ahead, a gargantuan structure of black stone veined with molten gold. Its arches towered like the ribs of a fallen god, and the roar of clashing warriors echoed from within. Bumma placed a hand on Gogeta’s shoulder as they entered.

  Inside, the air thrummed with power. Tiered platforms ringed a central arena where Saiyans sparred, their ki blasts lighting the gloom like lightning. Cracks scarred the walls—testaments to centuries of battles. As Bumma descended the steps, warriors paused mid-fight to kneel.

  “Lady Bumma!” A towering female Saiyan with a scarred lip approached, her armor singed. “Will you grace us with a match today?”

  Bumma smiled. “Another time, Nira. Today, my son observes.”

  Gogeta puffed his chest, but his bravado faltered as a shadow fell over them.

  General Vaelon emerged from the arena’s underbelly, his presence suffocating. His armor, black as void, bore claw marks from creatures unknown, and his crimson cape billowed like fresh blood. The crowd stilled.

  “Bumma,” Vaelon rumbled, his voice tectonic. His gaze slid to Gogeta, and the boy felt his ribs tremble. “This pup… your blood?”

  Bumma’s aura flared subtly, a silent challenge. “He’s stronger than he looks.”

  Vaelon’s lips curled. “Prove it.”

  ---

  **Revised Chapter 3: Clash of Titans**

  The colosseum erupted as Gogeta stepped into the arena. Sand, stained dark from ancient battles, crunched underfoot. High above, storm clouds churned—a side effect of Saiyan ki convergence.

  Vaelon cracked his neck. “First move’s yours, pup.”

  Gogeta’s hands trembled. *He’s testing me. Mom said never hesitate.* With a roar, he exploded into Super Saiyan, golden flames scorching the sand. The crowd cheered, but Vaelon didn’t flinch.

  Gogeta lunged, fists blazing. Vaelon sidestepped lazily, the heat of Gogeta’s aura singing his cape.

  *Too slow!* Gogeta’s mind raced. He feigned a punch, then spun into a roundhouse kick. Vaelon caught his ankle and *slammed* him into the ground.

  Pain spiderwebbed through Gogeta’s ribs. *Get up!* He’d promised his mother he’d make her proud. Electricity crackled around him as he ascended to Super Saiyan 2, his hair spiking violently. The ground fissured beneath his feet.

  “Better,” Vaelon conceded, finally smirking.

  Gogeta vanished, reappearing in a storm of afterimages. Ki blasts rained down, forcing Vaelon to raise a barrier. Seizing the opening, Gogeta materialized behind him, fist aimed at his spine.

  *Got him!*

  Vaelon whirled, catching Gogeta’s punch. His grip was iron. “Predictable.”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The elbow to Gogeta’s gut folded him in half. He crumpled, blood pooling in his mouth. The crowd’s jeers echoed.

  *I’m losing…* Gogeta’s vision blurred. *Mom…*

  Her voice surfaced in his mind: *“True power lies in control. Let your enemy feel safe, then strike.”*

  Gritting his teeth, Gogeta pooled his ki into his palm. The air stilled.

  Vaelon paused. “What’s this?”

  Gogeta’s aura winked out.

  Vaelon’s eyes narrowed. “A trick?”

  The Stardust Strike detonated—a supernova of compressed energy. Vaelon crossed his arms, but the blast sheared his armor, hurling him into the wall. The colosseum quaked.

  Silence.

  Vaelon emerged, chest heaving, his armor in ruins. A trickle of blood traced his jawline. “Impressive.”

  Gogeta grinned, swaying. *I did it…*

  Then, darkness.

  Vaelon’s fist sank into his gut before he could blink. Gogeta’s world went black.

  **Epilogue**

  Bumma cradled her son, holding him up in her palm. The crowd chanted his name.

  Vaelon loomed overhead. “He’s raw… but with training, he might rival you.”

  Gogeta stirred, meeting the general’s gaze. *Next time…*

  Bumma smiled. Rest could wait. The lesson had begun.

  Chapter 4 – Aftermath of the Battle

  Gogeta lay on the ground, gasping for breath, his muscles aching from the intense battle. The crowd of elite warriors murmured among themselves, some impressed, others simply smirking at the predictable outcome. He had given it his all, but General Vaelon had been on another level, outmaneuvering him with superior tactics and sheer battle experience.

  Bumma stepped forward, her expression unreadable as she examined her son. Instead of disappointment, there was a hint of pride. “You held your own,” she said, arms crossed. “But you rely too much on power. Tactics, discipline, and control—those matter just as much.”

  Vaelon, standing tall, looked down at Gogeta with a firm gaze. “Your instincts are strong, but instincts alone won’t save you against a seasoned opponent. You need to learn how to mask your energy, predict movements, and counter properly.”

  Gogeta clenched his fists, frustrated but fueled by the desire to improve. He replayed the fight in his head, realizing how often he had left himself open.

  “That last attack,” Bumma continued, “your Stardust technique—it has potential. But without refined control, it’s just wasted energy.”

  Some of the Saiyan elites laughed. “Maybe in ten years, kid,” one of them joked.

  Gogeta didn’t react. He was already focused on his next steps.

  Chapter 5 – The Path to Mastery Begins

  Bumma watched her son in deep thought and made a decision. She would train him personally.

  “Starting today,” she announced, “I’m taking over your training.”

  Gogeta’s eyes widened. “For real?!”

  “If you want to truly refine the Stardust Attack, we’ll do it right. And, there’s something else I want you to learn.”

  She raised a finger, and in an instant, an invisible force struck a distant rock, shattering it.

  Gogeta stared, confused. “What was that?!”

  “An Invisible Eye Blast,” Bumma explained. “A technique that catches even the strongest warriors off guard.”

  Excited, Gogeta tried to mimic it. He focused, channeling his energy into his eyes—but nothing happened. He kept trying, growing frustrated as Bumma smirked.

  “Don’t rush. This isn’t about strength. It’s about control.”

  Chapter 6 – Training with Bumma

  Bumma didn’t go easy on him.

  The next few days were grueling. She made him practice Ki suppression, hitting moving targets with his Stardust Attack while keeping his energy output hidden. She blindfolded him, forcing him to rely only on energy sensing.

  “Again,” she said as Gogeta panted, his body drenched in sweat.

  The sparring sessions were even tougher. Bumma fought him seriously, knocking him down with ease. Even when Gogeta started adapting, predicting her moves, she was always one step ahead.

  He finally managed to land a solid hit—but it barely fazed her.

  “That’s better,” she said. “But not enough.”

  After hours of training, Gogeta tried the Invisible Eye Blast again. This time, he felt a slight flicker of energy leave his eyes—a weak, almost unnoticeable pulse.

  Bumma smirked. “Not bad. But it’s still weak.”

  Gogeta grinned. He was getting closer.

  Chapter 7 – The Storm Approaches

  During a break in training, a few Saiyan warriors stood nearby, discussing something in hushed tones. Gogeta overheard them and turned his attention their way.

  One of them muttered a name: “Yojiro.”

  Instantly, the mood shifted. Warriors who were previously laughing and joking fell silent. Expressions hardened.

  The campfire crackled, its light dancing over the faces of Saiyan warriors—faces now pale, fists clenched tight enough to bleed. Gogeta leaned closer, unaware of the tension his question had unleashed.

  “Who’s Yojiro?”

  The veteran beside him *flinched*, ale sloshing from his mug. The fire dimmed, as though the flames themselves recoiled. A hulking warrior with cybernetic scars hissed, “*Shut your mouth, whelp.*” His voice trembled.

  The veteran’s eye twitched. “He’s not *just* a Saiyan. He’s… a monster. From another universe.” His throat bobbed. “They say he cracked a galaxy’s core *by accident* while training. That his son Broly—a monster even taller—tore a black hole apart with his *mere distraction energy* when he was six.”

  A nother Saiyan said I'm taking my family and leaving this planet. Some worriers Lough and say he's not that teirfaing. I can't risk it if he shows up in the asraioth kingdom I don't think I'm ready for that.

  A woman with a shattered horn added, quieter, “Asraioth’s king offered him ten planets to avoid their borders. *He laughed.* Now… they’re coming *here*.”

  Gogeta frowned. “But you guys are elites—!”

  “*Elites?*” The veteran spat. “To Yojiro, we’re *insects*. Eight feet tall, hair like blood, eyes that *burn*. When he walks, gravity shatters. When he *breathes*, armies collapse. And Broly…” He shuddered. “The boy’s power *never stops growing*. Fight him, and he’ll outlast the *universe itself*.”

  Silence fell. Somewhere in the dark, a scout’s voice crackled over a comm: “—sighted in Sector Xylo. The planet’s… gone. Just *dust* now.”

  Bumma’s hand gripped Gogeta’s shoulder, her usual steel replaced by cold dread. “They’re not coming to conquer. Her processing the thoughts of yojiro

  Far away, thunder rumbled—or perhaps it was laughter, echoing across the void

  **Chapter X: The Path to Power**

  The air above the training plateau crackled with energy as Gogeta steadied his breathing, his boots digging into the fractured earth. Sweat rolled down his temples, mixing with the dust kicked up by his earlier attempts to master the *Invisible Eye Blast*. His mother, Bumma, stood at the edge of the field, her arms folded and her crimson Saiyan armor gleaming under the planet’s twin suns. Her tail twitched impatiently.

  “Focus, Gogeta,” she called out, her voice sharp but laced with pride. “The technique isn’t just about power—it’s about *control*. Channel your ki into your pupils, then release it in a split second. Like threading a needle.”

  Gogeta gritted his teeth, his violet eyes narrowing as he tried once more. A faint golden aura flickered around him, but the blast fizzled before manifesting. He cursed under his breath.

  Nearby, the low hum of chatter echoed across the plateau. Groups of Saiyan warriors clustered in the shadows of jagged rock formations, their voices tense

  guys is it true yojiro,” growled a scarred veteran, his arms crossed. “If he’s returning, it’s not for something small.”

  A younger warrior scoffed, adjusting his scouter. “You really think the ‘Demon of his status .could’ve gotten *stronger* out there? He’s been gone for decades. We’ve evolved. *I* could take him.”

  “Fool!” snapped an elderly Saiyan woman, her voice trembling. “You weren’t there when he slaughtered the Frost king ice singlehandedly. His power… it wasn’t *natural*. If he’s coming back, we should be scrambling for the escape pods, not posturing!”

  The debate escalated, fists slamming into palms, until Bumma’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.

  **“Enough.”**

  The crowd fell silent as she turned her glare toward them. “Yojiro’s a myth until he’s breathing down your necks. And if he *does* show? **Fight.** Or die with your tails between your legs. But right now?” She smirked, cracking her knuckles. “My kid’s about to land a hit on me. Pay attention—you might learn something.”

  **The Spar**

  Bumma lunged first, a blur of crimson. Gogeta barely raised his arms in time to block her opening punch, the impact rattling his bones. He skidded backward, his boots carving trenches into the ground.

  “Too slow!” Bumma taunted, flicking her wrist. A volley of ki blasts—no bigger than pebbles—streaked toward him. Gogeta weaved through them, but the miniature explosions detonated mid-air, showering him with concussive shockwaves. He grunted, flipping backward to gain distance.

  **“Think faster!”** Bumma vanished, reappearing above him. Her heel slammed downward, but Gogeta rolled aside, retaliating with a wild ki wave that gouged a canyon into the plateau.

  “Better,” Bumma admitted, smirking as she hovered unscathed. “But still predictable.”

  Gogeta’s aura flared gold—**Super Saiyan**. His hair spiked upward, and he shot toward her, fists trailing lightning. Bumma parried each strike lazily, her movements effortless.

  “You’re holding back,” she chided. “What’s the point of a spar if you’re not *pushing*?”

  Gogeta roared, unleashing a flurry of ki blasts. Bumma batted them away with one hand, but he’d anticipated it—darting behind her, he aimed a punch at her ribs. She caught his fist, but he *grinned*.

  **“Kienzan!”

  A whirring disc of energy materialized at his free hand, slicing toward her shoulder. Bumma’s eyes widened a fraction before she vaporized it with a point-blank ki burst. The explosion flung Gogeta into a boulder, reducing it to rubble.

  “*Now* we’re talking,” Bumma said, dusting off her armor.

  **The Breakthrough**

  Gogeta staggered to his feet, blood trickling from his lip. His Super Saiyan aura flickered, but his eyes burned with resolve. *I need more…*

  Memories flashed—his mother’s relentless drills, the whispers of Yojiro’s legend, the Saiyans’ fear. His fists clenched. **“RAAAAH!”**

  Golden lightning erupted around him. His hair lengthened, his muscles tautening as raw power surged through his veins. **Super Saiyan 2.**

  Bumma’s smirk faded. “Oh? Finally figured it out, huh?”

  Gogeta didn’t answer. He *moved*. Their fists collided in a shockwave that split the clouds. For the first time, Bumma staggered.

  “Good,” she breathed, her own aura igniting—a deep, violent crimson. “*Finally* good.”

  They clashed like meteors, ki blasts shredding the landscape. Bumma aimed a palm strike at his chest, but Gogeta twisted, retaliating with an elbow to her jaw. She blocked, yet the force knocked her back a step.

  “**INVISIBLE EYE BLAST—NOW!**” his mind screamed.

  Gogeta’s pupils glowed faintly. A split-second flicker—then Bumma’s head snapped sideways, an invisible force striking her cheek. A thin line of blood dripped to the ground.

  Silence fell.

  **The Aftermath**

  Bumma touched her cheek, staring at the blood on her fingers. Then she laughed—a rich, booming sound that echoed across the plateau.

  “Took you long enough,” she said, ruffling Gogeta’s spiked hair. His Super Saiyan 2 form faded, leaving him panting on his knees. “That technique’s a pain in the *ass* to master. But… not bad.”

  The watching Saiyans murmured in awe. The scarred veteran crossed his arms. “Kid’s got fire. Maybe we *don’t* need to flee after all.”

  Bumma helped Gogeta to his feet, her voice low. “You’ll surpass me. Soon.…” Her gaze darkened. “there are people way stronger than me out there. He *feeds* on strengt

  h. Your progress? I'll reach there one day”

  Gogeta wiped his I'm getting there

  Bumma smirked. “Damn right you will.”

  As the twin suns dipped below the cliffs, Gogeta clenched his fists, the taste of progress sharp on his tongue.

  *One day. I’ll stand at the top.* .