The Ouroboros tore through the void, a sliver of darkness against the glittering debris field that was all that remained of Planet Vegeta. Astra paid no mind to the graveyard; his focus was on the single, tumbling lifeboat, its trajectory dragging it inexorably toward the system's sun.
With a thought, he enveloped the pod in a stasis field, halting its fatal drift. He didn't dock; he simply teleported directly into the cramped, acrid-smelling interior.
The occupant was a child. A boy, perhaps a year older than Astra's body appeared, with a wild, black mane of hair and a deep, bleeding gash on his forehead. His small body was clad in a miniature battle armor, now cracked and scorched. He was unconscious, his breathing shallow, but even in this state, his Ki signature burned with a fierce, untamed intensity that Astra had only felt once before.
[Appraising: Saiyan Infant.]
[Designation: Unknown.]
[Power Level: 2,500 (Suppressed due to injury).]
[Potential: Colossal. Genetic Markers: 99.7% match to Royal Bloodline.]
[Status: Unconscious, Critically Injured, Suffering from Severe Psychological Trauma.]
Royal Bloodline. This was no low-class warrior's child. The power, the armor, the timing... there was only one possibility.
This was Raditz. Son of Bardock. Brother to Kakarot.
Astra stood over the unconscious child, a maelstrom of cold calculation warring with an unexpected, profound pity. The boy was a living relic of a dead world, a scion of a murdered royalty. He was also a potential disaster. His Saiyan instincts were pure, untainted by the re-education of Vesper. He was pride, aggression, and conquest given form.
He could leave him. Let the pod continue its course into the sun. It would be the cleanest, most logical choice. Raditz, in the original timeline, had been a mediocre warrior and a catalyst for trouble.
But he was a child. A child who had just witnessed the annihilation of his entire race, his planet, his future. Astra saw the ghost of that trauma etched into the boy's unconscious face. He saw not the future villain, but the last screaming ember of a fire he had let burn out.
The Architect did not build by discarding useful materials.
He placed a hand on Raditz's chest, channeling a trickle of Cosmic Energy. The gash on the boy's forehead sealed, the color returned to his face. His breathing deepened. Astra then carefully, meticulously, placed a powerful mental block deep within Raditz's psyche. It would not harm him, but it would suppress all memory of the destruction, of Frieza, of his own name and lineage. He would be a blank slate.
He teleported himself and the sleeping child back to the Ouroboros, leaving the empty pod to drift. He jumped back to Vesper, not to First Stone, but to the most isolated, tranquil corner of Sanctuary. He laid the boy down on a bed of soft, glowing moss under the gentle light of the artificial sun.
He would let the peace of this place be the boy's first memory.
Returning to the Nexus dais on Vesper, he summoned Borg and Elara.
"There is a new arrival on Sanctuary," he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. "A Saiyan child. He was found adrift. He remembers nothing—not his name, not his past, not the destruction. He is a blank page."
Elara's hand flew to her mouth. "A child... another survivor?"
Borg's eyes narrowed. "His power... I can feel it from here. It's strong. Royal-strong."
"He is to be left alone," Astra commanded. "The environment of Sanctuary will be his teacher. We will observe. We will see what grows when a Saiyan seed is planted in soil of peace, rather than conquest."
He was conducting a new experiment. Could the essential nature of a Saiyan be rewritten? Could the Last Scion of the old empire become the first prince of the new?
It was a risk. Raditz was a wild variable, a spark of the old fire near the carefully controlled forge of his new society. But Astra had spent centuries learning to control fire. He would see if this ember could be tempered into something new, or if it would have to be extinguished for the safety of all.
The Last Scion was now a ward of the Architect. His future, like that of Vesper itself, was a thing to be built.