The transformation did not flare.
The local area I occupied of the universe bent inward .
Fourth Ancient Form called the Tyrant Origin
Multiplier: ×400 Base
Total Power: 13.6 Trillion
Appearance:
Eyes pitch black with faint crimson ring.
No aura visible space distorts instead.
Voice carries instinct compulsion during battles.
Absolute Costs
Sadism becomes strategic instinct
Mercy is no longer intuitive
Prolonged use risks permanent emotional erosion.
This was not evil.
This was prehistoric rule.
The Gods Finally Look Down into the mortal realm.
The moment the form stabilized, Time froze.
Not in a metaphorical but literally.
A pressure descended that dwarfed even my own, forcing me to release my ki to its fullest to properly resist it .
An Angel's gaze not any angel but the farther of them all.
Far away… but aware.
Shin fell to one knee immediately out fear and respect but mostly fear.
I remained standing out of pure rebellion and tyrannical saiyan pride.
For the first time since my rebirth I felt true threat to my existence.
The universe acknowledged me not as a warrior hungry for battle but as a problem that needs correction.
The Ancient Truth
Saiyans were never meant to be heroes.
They were meant to be filters, culling weak realities so stronger ones could exist.
The gods erased that role.
I remembered it once I fully awakened .
And now
They would have to decide
whether to erase me too if they could.
End of the chapter