Chapter 23: The Unshackled
The silence in the cavern was absolute, heavier than the mountain above them. It was the silence of a world holding its breath, of a fundamental law of nature being violently rewritten. The dust from the vaporized cage and shattered rock settled slowly, each particle glinting in the faint fungal light as it drifted down onto the heads of the stunned women.
Kakarot stood amidst the wreckage, a monument of resurrected power. He was not breathing heavily; his chest rose and fell in a slow, deep rhythm that spoke of a vast, untapped reservoir of energy. The air around him shimmered with the heat of his unleashed ki, the aura having faded to a faint, menacing corona. He flexed his hands, the motion fluid and effortless, and rolled his shoulders, the dense muscle moving with a lethal grace that his previous, battered form had lacked.
His eyes, burning with a cold, intellectual fire, swept over the room. They took in the terrified women scrambling backward on the floor, their weapons forgotten, their faces etched with a primal terror they had not felt since his first arrival. They were no longer jailers. They were insects. His gaze paused on Lyra, who was trembling violently, and on Shera, who had a hand clamped over a bleeding cut on her arm from the flying debris. There was no recognition in his look, only categorization.
Finally, his focus landed on Kael. She had managed to get to her knees, her body braced against the cavern wall. Her eyes, wide with shock, met his. There was no plea in them, only a stark, horrified understanding of the new reality.
"The equation has changed," Kakarot said. His voice was not a roar. It was a low, resonant vibration that seemed to emanate from the stone itself, calm and utterly terrifying in its certainty. "You are no longer jailers. You are... applicants. Applying for your continued existence. The terms of the transaction have been updated."
Before anyone could process the threat, Moori took a single, calm step forward. The Namekian's green skin seemed pale in the gloom, but his voice was steady. "This display of power is... impressive. But it changes the larger situation you described. The colonists are still coming. Frieza is still coming. A single Saiyan, even one as powerful as you appear to be, cannot fight an empire alone. You said it yourself: they will see you as a broken tool or a pest to be exterminated. There is logic in…"
Kakarot's head snapped toward the Namekian. A flicker of raw, undiluted annoyance crossed his features. Logic. Reason. He was done with being analyzed, with being a subject of discussion. He had just shattered his chains, and this green philosopher dared to speak to him of logic?
"The only logic that matters is power," Kakarot interrupted, his voice dropping into a deadly quiet snarl. "And I am done talking."
He turned away from them, from their fear, from their desperate attempts to control a situation that had spiraled far beyond their comprehension. He raised his right hand, index finger extended. A brilliant, compact orb of white-hot energy materialized at its tip with a sharp crackle, casting the cavern in stark, terrifying light.
The women screamed, huddling together. Moori's eyes widened, and he began to raise his hands, a green aura flickering around them.
But Kakarot wasn't aiming at them.
He pointed at the solid rock wall of the cavern, opposite the entrance to the tunnels. Without a word, without a shout, a thin, incandescent beam of energy lanced from his finger. It did not explode. It did not blast. It vaporized. A perfect, circular section of the mountain wall, ten feet in diameter, simply ceased to exist, turned to superheated plasma and dust. A tunnel to the outside world was carved in a microsecond.
The roar of the outside world flooded in, the howl of the wind, the smell of the dry plains, the light of the planet's sun, harsh and real after the dimness of the caves.
Without a backward glance, without another word, Kakarot crouched slightly and launched himself through the newly made exit. The sonic boom of his acceleration was a physical blow that knocked the women off their feet and sent loose rock tumbling from the ceiling. He was a blur of motion, a dark streak against the vast, orange sky, gone in an instant.
The cavern was left in a stunned, ringing silence, the gaping hole in the wall staring out at the freedom he had just taken.
***
For hours, he flew.
He was a storm of frustration and conflicted power, carving hypersonic arcs across the skies of the world he had broken. He flew over the scorched plains, the shattered forests, the silent, glassy craters. He saw it all from a new perspective, not as a conqueror, but as… what? A ghost? Like a king without a kingdom? A weapon without a hand to wield it?
He finally descended, landing with a soft crunch of gravel on a secluded peak in a range of jagged, black mountains far from the hybrid's cavern. The wind whipped around him, a constant, lonely sigh. He stood there, his remaining scraps of armor, little more than a pauldron and a few strips on his legs, flapping in the gale.
The thoughts came, not in a rush, but in cold, clear, brutal waves.
*Return to the Frieza Force?* The idea was laughable. He could see it now. He would land on some ship, on some world. Vegeta would look at him, that same arrogant sneer on his face. He would see Kakarot's increased power, and his sneer would twist into fury. He would attack, not to welcome him back, but to finish the job, to reassert his dominance. Nappa and Raditz would join in, not out of loyalty to Vegeta, but out of sheer, terrified pack mentality. They had left him for dead. A returned Kakarot was a walking, breathing reminder of their cowardice, a challenge to the established order. They would eliminate him. And Frieza? Frieza would either be amused by the squabbling of his monkeys or would simply vaporize them all for their inefficiency. There was no going back. That path was closed. He was a ghost to them, and he would stay that way.
*Is Lara worried?* The thought of the blue-skinned woman surfaced, unwelcome and persistent. Was she looking at the stars, wondering what had happened to him? Had Raditz told her? Had he hurt her again? A cold knot of something, anger? protectiveness? tightened in his gut. He shoved the thought aside. Sentiment was a weakness. She was alive. That was more than he could say for most. It would have to be enough.
*Confrontation.* How would he confront them? Not with words. Not with pleas. There was only one language Saiyans understood. Power. He would need to get stronger. So much stronger that Vegeta's arrogance would shatter against it. So much stronger that Raditz's condescension would turn to ash in his mouth. So much stronger that even Frieza's cold eyes would be forced to widen in surprise. But how? Training alone on this dead rock had limits. He needed a challenge. He needed…
He was under no illusion. He deserved what he got from Vegeta. He had been weak. Arrogant in his own right, but without the power to back it up. He had challenged the Prince and been broken for it. It was the Saiyan way. The way of the universe. The strong dominate the weak. He wasn't naive enough to deny the obvious truth he had lived his entire life by. He had been weak. He had been treated as weak.
But he was not weak anymore.
He could feel it. The healing trance, fueled by that massive intake of calories, had not just restored him. It had improved him. The Zenkai boost. His power level had risen. It was a significant jump. He was stronger than he had been before Vegeta had shattered him on the plains. The energy coursing through his veins was proof. He clenched a fist, feeling the ki respond, eager and potent.
He looked down at himself. His armor was eighty percent gone, scorched and torn away. What remained was a joke, a pathetic reminder of the empire that had discarded him. He reached up, ripped the remaining pauldron from his shoulder, and tossed it over the cliff edge. He watched it fall, a tiny piece of gray metal, until it vanished into the mist below.
He was alone. Unshackled from the Frieza Force. Unshackled from his comrades. Unshackled even from the remnants of his uniform.
He was just Kakarot.
And the universe, vast and cold and full of powerful enemies, was waiting. The question was no longer about where he belonged. The question was what he would become.
[A/N: Can't wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, don't forget to drop a power stone! Your support helps this story reach more readers!]