Some Names Are Earned
Broko did not hunt randomly.
He filtered.
He searched specifically for Saiyan reincarnators souls wearing the blood and instincts of his people, reborn into softer worlds, given advantage without consequence.
If any deserved mercy
It would be them.
If any deserved the most judgment
It would also be them.
...
The Criteria
Broko established it clearly:
Did they train without being forced?
Did they seek limits break them , or avoid them?
Did they use Saiyan power to conquer reality, or to be rewarded by it and it's inhabitants?.
The multiverse answered quickly.
Too quickly.
World One: A Cinematic Fantasy Earth
The sky was always blue here.
Explosions never killed civilians.
Battles reset with sequels.
Broko hovered above a pristine coastal city and felt it....
A Saiyan signature.
Strong but Undisciplined.
Reincarnator One: "Kazer"
Former human.
Saiyan body.
Reborn into a high-budget action–fantasy movie world...
...
Power Level (No Training, Natural Saiyan Growth from basic combat ): ~2.8 million
....
Kazer lounged atop a marble palace overlooking the ocean, surrounded by attendants and women drawn by fear, status, and his exaggerated displays of strength.
He wore armor for style and posturing .
Not necessity.
When Broko landed, the palace cracked under the pressure.
Kazer stood, annoyed.
"Another challenger?" he scoffed. "Get in line."
Broko looked around.
No gravity chamber.
No scars.
No discipline.
"How often do you train ?" Broko asked.
Kazer laughed at him . "Why would I? This world can't hurt me even if they tried bro."
Broko's tail twitched.
"Then you're already a dead brat," Broko said calmly.
Kazer's grin widened. "You Saiyans from harsh worlds are all the same. Obsessed with suffering. Me? I'm enjoying my reincarnation."
Broko nodded once.
"That's the problem, this constant luxury ."
...
The Test...
Broko suppressed himself down to 2.5 million.
"Strike me," he said.
Kazer obliged, swinging wildly, pouring raw ki into a single overcommitted punch.
Broko stepped aside south paw and tapped Kazer's ribs with a brutal right hook
"This is controlled violence boy." Broko said .
The counter shattered Kazer's stance and dropped him to one knee, gasping.
Shock replaced arrogance.
"What—what was that?"
"Efficiency," Broko replied. "You don't have it."
Kazer roared and powered up further, muscles swelling, ki flaring uncontrolled.
Broko didn't escalate.
He simply waited.
Kazer burned himself out in 30 seconds.
Collapsed.
Panting.
Broko stood over him annoyed...
"You were given a Saiyan body," Broko said.
"And turned it into a costume."
After saying that
He ended Kazer quickly.
No more speech.
No rage.
Just disappointed removal.
...
Elsewhere
World Two: A Romantic eastern Power-Fantasy Reality
...
This world revolved around wish fulfillment.
Destiny bent toward the protagonist.
Conflict existed only to elevate ego.
Broko felt three Saiyan signatures here.
All close.
All stagnant...
Reincarnators Two, Three, and Four
They called themselves brothers.
Not by blood..
By convenience.
Each had a Saiyan body, tails intact, power unnaturally early.
Power Levels:
Saiyan A: ~1.9 million
Saiyan B: ~2.1 million
Saiyan C: ~2.4 million
They lived in a floating fortress, ruling nations through spectacle.
When Broko appeared, they were not threatened.
They were excited.
"Another Saiyan!" one laughed. "You here to join us?"
Broko scanned them.
No calluses.
No controlled breathing.
No instincts sharpened by death battles .
"What do you fight for?" Broko asked.
"Comfort," one said honestly.
"Pleasure," another added.
"The story always bends our way," the third shrugged. "Why struggle mate?"
Broko's eyes darkened.
"Because struggle is the point."
They attacked together, uncoordinated, overlapping, wasting energy.
Broko dismantled them systematically.
Not overpowering but out thinking them relying on his experience fighting multiple opponents on planet Xenophon back in the day .
He broke joints, disrupted ki flow, forced them into positions they had never trained to escape.
They panicked.
"You're taking this too seriously!" one shouted.
Broko stopped.
Looked at them.
"You mistake seriousness for cruelty," he said.
"I'm mourning what you could have been you idiots are filth."
They begged.
He did not listen he powerd up to 5 million BP.. Then released a mouth cannon aiming for the planet core.... Then he vanished with an evil grin.....
World Three: The truly Arrogant One
This one felt different.
Stronger.
Sharper ego.
A Saiyan reincarnated into a blockbuster superhero world where destruction was sanitized and power always escalated without cost....
Reincarnator Five: "Prince Veyron"
He styled himself royalty.
Claimed the Saiyan name loudly
.
Power Level: ~4.6 million
Still, no true refinement.
When Broko confronted him, Veyron sneered.
"So you're the executioner I've heard whispers about," Veyron said. "You think hardship makes you superior?"
Broko answered honestly.
"No. Discipline and a brutal life does."
Veyron scoffed.
"I conquered this world in three months. What have you done?"
Broko answered the runt.. "I survived King Cold's skeems,destroyed an entire magical species and survived His son's squadron supreme"....
He powered down—to 3 million.
Veyron frowned.
"You're mocking me."
"I'm giving you a chance runt," Broko replied.
They fought...
Veyron was powerful cinematic, explosive, destructive.
Broko was quiet and calm not using flashy ki attacks yet..
Every exchange widened the gap and Veyron grew furious.
"You're holding back because you're afraid!"
Broko finally struck seriously.
One blow.
It ended the fight.
Veyron lay broken, staring at the sky.
"I was chosen," he whispered.
Broko looked down at him.
" yeah yeah yeah, So was I boy ," he said.
"And I chose to suffer, you still have a chance, take it, Runt ."
He turned away after finishing it.
... Elsewhere.....
Broko stood alone between worlds.
Five Saiyan reincarnators.
Five disappointments .
Different personalities.
Same weakness.
They wanted the aesthetic of Saiyan power.
Not the burden.
Not the discipline.
Not the solitude.
....
Broko's thoughts...
A Saiyan is not defined by battle lust, he thought.
But by the willingness to break themselves to go further.
He felt not just joy.
But clarity.
The name must mean something, he decided.
Or it means nothing.
He turned back toward his hidden faction.
Toward the children training under gravity.
Toward a future where Saiyans would not be wasted on constant comfort and luxury .....
And far away....
Frieza smiled as he planned...
Cooler prepared for the saiyan who got away .....
The universe leaned forward in anticipation.
End of the chapter