"Oh? 'Don't make me angry'? Who exactly are you trying to scare?" Quitela's amusement only grew. He narrowed his eyes and sing-songed, "Suppose I do make you angry—what then?"
"Universe 9's God of Destruction Sidra. Universe 3's Mosco. The human who controlled Mosco, Mule—and his son." Broly's face stayed cold. He was about to keep going when the light on Ken's body suddenly flared, dazzling and sharp enough to cut the dark.
Broly's gaze snapped back. Whatever he'd meant to say died in his throat.
"What is it? What were you about to say? What about them?" Quitela blinked, a beat late.
The radiance pouring from Ken only got brighter. His shape had fully coalesced; the light-formed body was hardening into reality.
"I'll tell you in a minute," Broly said, voice tight with barely contained excitement. His shoulders were actually trembling.
"Hey, you, the pink fat one—you're from Universe 7, aren't you?" Quitela, less interested in the newborn glow, suddenly remembered something and jabbed at Majin Buu instead.
Buu answered by pulling a face.
"Hmph! Of all things, I hate Universe 7 the most," Quitela sniffed, each cold snort landing heavier than the last.
He wasn't lying. He loathed Beerus and Beerus's Universe 7. Back in the God of Destruction tournament held in Universe 18, his own fighter had been knocked out by Universe 7's Frieza.
"Uh…" Buu scratched his head and let him talk to thin air.
"I'm in the barrier. I'm out of the barrier. What exactly are you going to do about it? Come hit me, you two idiots," Quitela kept chanting, hopping along the edge of Broly's energy shell like a kid skipping rope, his mouth getting filthier by the second.
It was, to Quitela, his right to toy with two mortals.
Broly and Buu turned, watching the jumping clown with the same flat, fed-up stare.
Broly wanted nothing more than to put him through a wall.
But at this moment, he refused to invite trouble.
Buu's fists knotted so tight his fingers creaked. He very nearly turned the mouse into chocolate right there.
Sidra chocolate had been delicious last time.
Crisp.
If he made this guy into a chocolate bar too…
Would that push him past Broly?
The thought honestly tempted Buu.
"I'm in, I'm out—come hit me, you two morons," Quitela repeated, still taunting.
"Broly, he's literally asking you to hit him," a familiar voice sounded lightly behind them. "Do the man a favor."
Broly's eyes went wide. He pivoted so fast his hair whipped. Buu also swung around, jaw dropping.
Ken stood behind them.
He was whole again—dressed in a set of angelic garb, a warm, milky halo at his neck, a black angel's staff in hand. He looked about one-eighty tall, the softness from his face gone, replaced by crisp, clean lines that somehow made him even more handsome.
And he wore his hair short and silver-white, a cool burn against the star-dark void.
After twenty-four years, Ken had finished his metamorphosis. He was an Angel in truth.
"Ken…" Broly's eyes flooded. Tears nearly spilled.
Twenty-four long years. He'd finally come back.
"You got taller," Ken said, clapping a hand to Broly's shoulder.
Broly nodded hard, tears breaking free.
"And you're still this round," Ken grinned, pinching Buu's cheek.
Buu: "…"
Across those twenty-four years, Ken had felt everything around him as clear as day. Broly's devotion and Buu's stubborn companionship—those had moved even him.
He had expected this much from Broly.
What he hadn't expected was Majin Buu, of all people, waiting out twenty-four foodless years without wandering off to chase a snack.
Maybe that was part of why his own growth had leapt so fast.
"You're really back?" Broly scrubbed at his face, breaking into a helpless, boyish grin.
"Uh…" Buu scratched his head and giggled along.
At the edge of the barrier, Quitela's beady eyes went round as coins as he finally noticed Ken.
A new Angel—really?
Why did he look…familiar?
Where had he seen him?
Twenty-four years is a long time. Ken and Broly both looked markedly different: same hairstyles, but their once-youthful faces had opened out into full-blown good looks. Quitela didn't recognize them at a glance.
And the conversation inside the barrier didn't carry; in vacuum, their voices traveled via energy control, and Quitela caught none of it.
He stared from afar, sizing up the "newborn" Angel and thinking hard.
So Universe 9 really had a new Angel.
The skin tone was…odd, though.
Aren't Angels supposed to be blue-skinned?
No wonder I didn't clock him at first glance.
"Ken, are you a full Angel now?" Broly asked, still a little breathless.
Ken nodded. "I am."
"Your tail…" Broly's gaze slid to it.
Ken's tail swished behind him—now silver-white to match his hair.
"Tail?" Quitela did a double take. "What the— is that thing actually an Angel? I've never seen an Angel with a tail!"
"Nice color," Ken said, amused, letting it flick lazily.
He took quick inventory. The old mortal bloodlines in his body felt…absent. In their place, countless points of Angelic light were woven together into a whole.
He couldn't help a wry smile.
A tail now? Really?
Whatever. Not important.
Call it evolution.
And if his body was nothing but bound light—then it could regenerate.
As long as those points gathered again, he could reform.
His staff had arrived with the metamorphosis too. Ken pulsed power through the core crystal and felt the amplification surge.
Roughly fifty-fold.
Not bad. Real Angel numbers.
Merus had said his old staff only boosted thirty times. Vados's could do fifty. The Grand Priest's black-gold staff was king at a hundred. The spare silver-white staff the Grand Priest brought out could do eighty.
Ken exhaled, accidentally puffing a little glowing bubble.
"…Huh."
Only then did he glance at Quitela.
Broly followed his look, anger cooling into something steadier now that Ken stood here. Emerald currents crawled over him.
Ken lifted a hand: easy.
Quitela frowned. He could feel it—Broly's energy had climbed a lot. Back in the tournament, Fourth Universe were first to get the boot, and he'd left earliest; he'd never seen Broly's Legendary state and didn't truly understand his ceiling.
Gods of Destruction rarely visited each other. Even after Sidra and Mosco vanished twenty-four years ago, most Gods didn't know. It was hard enough keeping up with one's own universe.
Quitela had only come out because he was bored and had heard Sidra played around every day; he wanted to go heckle him.
Being a God of Destruction was mind-numbing work—breaking down unbalanced or useless worlds. A flick of the hand got it done, but doing the same "flick" for hundreds of millions of years drove anyone crazy. You'd rather someone else vaporized the rock for you.
So he'd wandered from Fourth Universe, stumbled on Broly, Buu, and a cocooning Angel—and decided to amuse himself.
If Beerus wasn't here, who could rival Quitela?
He was the second-strongest God of Destruction. He had confidence.
"Hey, trainee Angel—come pay your respects to a God of Destruction," Quitela drawled, beckoning.
A trainee Angel, so what?
And he looked like one born from the cosmos, not one of the Grand Priest's real sons. If he were the Grand Priest's boy, Quitela might show some manners. But a cocoon-born trainee? No need.
Trainees didn't usually beat Gods of Destruction.
Ken looked at him calmly—then vanished.
"Where'd he—" Quitela stopped mid-quip.
You're talking to me and you just…leave?
Fast, though. He'd give him that.
A prickle ran up Quitela's spine. He turned mechanically.
Ken stood behind him.
Broly's brows climbed in delight.
Buu's mouth formed a perfect O.
"Haven't even 'warmed up' the edge of my staff yet," Ken said mildly. "Let's start with you."
He swung.
Quitela tried to bolt.
Ken was faster.
Thock.
The staff tapped Quitela right between the eyes.
Crack.
The sound rode a rippling pulse of energy into Broly and Buu's ears: bone giving way.
Quitela didn't even have time to scream. His head lolled. He fainted.
Ken: "…"
Broly was frozen.
Buu's jaw somehow dropped farther. You could've slipped an ostrich egg in there.
"You heard the crack, right?" Ken asked, glancing over.
Both nodded in unison.
Sound doesn't travel in vacuum—but Quitela had shoved that "crack" out through energy on purpose, like he was broadcasting I can still be saved to the room.
That's how strong survival instinct sounded.
"So fragile?" Ken sighed, honestly disappointed.
"Crisp! I'm gonna eat him!" Buu patted his belly, eyes lighting up as he shuffled closer, smacking his lips.
Broly instantly remembered how happily Buu had crunched down Sidra, God of Destruction or not.
"Not yet. One more try," Ken said, glancing at Buu, then at the limp mouse. He lifted his staff; the crystal hummed. Angelic power softened to pure restoration and washed over Quitela.
The mouse's eyes snapped open.
"Lord Quitela, you okay?" Ken asked pleasantly.
Quitela saw who it was and jolted, blinking away again to open distance.
"Cowardly sneak attack! As if you could beat a God of Destruction with your real strength!" he blustered, thumbing his chest.
"Then let's do it properly." Ken smiled. "I'll give you three seconds to prep."
"One is enough." Quitela's aura exploded purple-red.
Boom.
Power climbed to the ceiling in a blink. He took stance, every nerve screaming that this "trainee" might actually be dangerous.
He wouldn't lose—he was the strongest God there was.
He'd trained for years. For all he knew, he'd surpassed Beerus by now.
"Go on then—"
Ken flickered.
In the next instant, he was on Quitela's head. Standing on it.
"W-what—" Quitela choked, then went red with rage.
Who did this brat think he was humiliating?
He clapped his hands up, trying to crush the ankles on his skull.
Ken casually rapped the staff on Quitela's forehead and hopped away.
Crack.
Another clean, dreadful note. Quitela's raised hands froze mid-clap. His head rolled to the side. Out cold.
Ken: "…"
"So weak?" Ken shook his head, genuinely let down.
Broly lit up.
Buu eyed the staff like it was cursed. One tap. Split. One tap. Split. The poor mouse kept pushing out energy-sound like a prisoner tapping SOS on pipework.
That's what despair felt like.
Ken sighed, then bathed Quitela in healing light again.
Quitela's eyes fluttered. He started to sit—and bolted, purple-red streaming as he turned into a streak and ran for his life.
Broly's aura flared emerald, lightning coiling. He shifted to pursue.
You ran your mouth at me. You ignored every warning. And now you think you can just leave?
You're lucky I'm calm now.
In the old days I would've torn you in two.
Today's a good day. Ken's a true Angel. I'll let you keep your spine—but I'll still tune you up.
Broly had just leaned forward when he stopped, head tilting.
Quitela, far out ahead, twitched—and collapsed mid-flight.
Crack whispered back along the line, again riding energy rather than air.
Broly looked at Ken.
Buu scratched his head, then also looked at Ken.
You can pop his skull from that far?
"When I healed him, I left a seam," Ken said, silver hair shining, tail swaying lazily. "If he flew too hard, it would split again."
Buu nodded violently, then rubbed his own head in sudden worry.
Best to behave around this one. If he tapped my head, would it even grow back?
Felt like that crack had rung the soul.
Ken flicked once more and appeared at Quitela's side.
"Poor little mouse," he said with a sympathetic sigh. The staff's crystal blossomed with Angelic light, knitting bone and spirit back together.
Quitela blinked awake, saw Ken, and went rigid.
"Run along," Ken said, all white teeth and sunshine.
Quitela shuddered. After one last heartbeat of pride, he crumpled to his knees.
"I'm sorry. I was wrong, Angel!" he blurted, almost sobbing.
This was a monster.
How could a trainee Angel be this strong? He felt like he was wrestling a real Angel and losing.
He couldn't win. Better to bow. He should've checked the almanac before leaving home today.
Thock.
Ken's staff bopped him again.
Crack.
Quitela's skull split a third time.
"Ah, split again," Ken murmured, almost clinically.
Light flowed; the fracture sealed. Quitela came back…and Ken tapped him a fourth time. Then healed him. Then tapped him. Then healed.
Five minutes later, Quitela was bawling openly, snot and tears everywhere, waving his hands weakly.
Please stop. One more round of this and I'll be a vegetable.
"Wow. That was kind of fun," Ken said, genuinely delighted.
"I'm sorry! I'm very sorry!" Quitela yelped, bowing so fast he might've drilled into the void.
"Where'd that mosquito come from?" Ken mused.
Quitela: "???"
In space? A mosquito?
"Idiot," Buu leaned in and stage-whispered in his ear. "He means your voice is too low."
"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!" Quitela shouted at full volume.
And then, mid-yell, the name finally landed. His eyes cleared. He stared at Ken.
"Y-you—you're that human Angel—" His finger shot up before he could think.
In the same instant, Broly's hand clamped his wrist.
"Who are you pointing at?" Broly said, cool as ice. "Try being polite."
"You…you're Broly? The newly chosen trainee God of Destruction from Universe 18?" Quitela's brain finally assembled the picture.
Boom.
Broly drove a fist up into his armpit.
"Aaagh—!"
Pain ripped through Quitela's whole body. He went numb from teeth to toes.
"Didn't you beg me to hit you? Wish granted," Broly said, and open-handed him across the face, fast and merciless.
By the time he stopped, Quitela's cheeks were puffy and blotched, a mismatched pair of eggplants.
Thud.
A heel kick smashed into his sternum.
He coughed blood, painting the stars red.
"Pass!" Buu called, waving Broly on.
Broly nodded and soccer-kicked the mouse into a high arc.
Whap.
Buu palmed him right back.
Then back again.
They batted Quitela between them like a rubber ball. After twenty-four dry, silent years, Broly and Buu had earned a little play.
Quitela didn't dare lift a finger in return. Not with the Angel watching, staff in hand.
If he resisted, that skull would split again. He was going to end up a drooling idiot.
Let them vent. Maybe he'd live.
He swallowed the pain and flew whichever way their strikes sent him.
Ken didn't interrupt.
He'd brought this on himself.
And for the record, even if Quitela had started a fight with Broly during Ken's metamorphosis, it wouldn't have scratched him. In that moment, an Angel in metamorphosis is immune to all harm.
But Broly didn't know that, and he would never risk it.
"Thud! Thud! Thud!"
They kept at it. Quitela kept his mouth shut and his head down.
Just wait, he swore to himself. When Ken isn't around, I'll—
…
Universe 7, deep space.
A tiny, spherical pod knifed through the dark toward the Solar System.
Inside, a long-haired Saiyan watched his scouter.
"Prince Vegeta, one minute to Earth," Raditz reported with a sharp grin.
The scouter's view flicked to Vegeta and Nappa on some conquered world.
Corpses everywhere. The survivors kept firing hopeless beams at them.
Blue bolts struck their armor. Vegeta and Nappa didn't even blink. To them, the lasers were a stiff breeze.
Against this kind of gap, it was nothing but despair.
Vegeta dusted another alien and sneered. "Hmph. Your brother's a nobody, Raditz. Even if he joins us, he's dead weight."
"Prince, Kakarot can go Great Ape," Raditz chuckled. "Even if his battle power's low, he can still mop the trash. That's useful, isn't it?"
"Do what you want," Vegeta said, bored.
"But speaking of it…" Nappa blurted, "it's been ages since we heard anything about Ken or Broly."
Vegeta shot him a side-eye full of murder.
Thunk.
He kicked Nappa so hard the big man rolled like a barrel, thumping to a stop before crawling back on his knees.
"Forgive me, Prince! I shouldn't have said their names," Nappa babbled.
"I never said that," Vegeta replied coolly. "I just happened to kick, and you happened to be there. Bad luck."
Nappa: "…"
"It has been a while," Vegeta went on, a crooked smile on his lips. "So what if someone calls himself the Legendary Super Saiyan."
Nappa kept his head down, shaking.
"I remember this—Ken mentioned your brother, Raditz. Kakarot," Vegeta said, eyes narrowing, amused.
Raditz blinked, caught off-guard. "Prince Vegeta, what did he say? About my brother?"
(End of chapter)
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
[Check out my Patreon to read 20+ chapters ahead]
[[email protected]/BellAshelia]
[Thanks for your support!]