Chapter 3 – Birth of the Demonic Super Saiyan
Transformation had always come to Son Goku through emotion.
Anger.
Grief.
Urgency.
Zhou Fan found this method… inefficient.
Emotion was volatile. Power gained through it was unstable—wild surges followed by wasteful dissipation. In cultivation, such breakthroughs were considered false ascensions: impressive, but hollow.
Power should not beg to be released, Zhou Fan thought.
It should obey.
That night, he did not sleep.
He descended inward.
Past muscle.
Past bone.
Past blood.
Into the cellular lattice of the Saiyan body.
Only then did Zhou Fan understand the true flaw of the Super Saiyan transformation.
It was not a form.
It was a panic response.
Every cell screamed at once, tearing open sealed potential violently, flooding the body with energy it was never taught to circulate properly. Power erupted outward like a breached dam—spectacular, but unsustainable.
Zhou Fan closed his eyes.
Then we will teach it discipline.
He compressed the ki again—but deeper this time.
Not merely through demonic meridian routes, but into the nucleus of every cell. Ki was folded, layered, engraved with demonic intent until it stopped behaving like energy and began behaving like law.
The body reacted violently.
Muscles spasmed uncontrollably.
Veins turned black, then gold, then black again.
Bones cracked—not breaking, but densifying, forced into a higher structural state.
Goku screamed inside the sealed consciousness.
"Stop! You're killing us!"
Zhou Fan did not answer.
Cultivation did not negotiate.
Cells began to die—millions at a time—unable to withstand the pressure. Zhou Fan allowed it.
Then he forced regeneration.
Not natural healing.
Refinement.
The dead cells were stripped apart, their residual ki harvested, recompressed, and used to forge stronger replacements. Each cycle made the body more resistant. More obedient.
More imperial.
Outside, the air around the house trembled.
Chi-Chi woke abruptly.
Her heart was racing.
She sat up, breath shallow, a cold sensation crawling up her spine.
"Goku…?"
The night felt wrong.
Too quiet.
No insects.
No wind.
Just a low, distant hum—like the world itself was holding its breath.
She stepped outside.
The ground beneath her feet vibrated faintly. Not an earthquake. Something… focused.
Then she felt it.
Pressure.
Not crushing.
Not violent.
Just overwhelming.
Like standing before an executioner who had not yet drawn his blade.
Chi-Chi clutched her chest.
"What… what are you doing…?"
Inside the house, Zhou Fan exhaled.
The final seal broke.
The Super Saiyan gate—once emotional, unstable—was forcibly restructured into a permanent cultivation realm within the body.
The transformation triggered.
But this time—
There was no roar.
No explosion.
Golden light emerged silently, pulled inward rather than outward. Hair rose, but did not flare wildly. Eyes sharpened—not burning with rage, but cold clarity.
Then—
Black lines threaded through the gold.
Like ink soaking into divine silk.
The aura condensed, tightening until it clung to Zhou Fan's body like armor rather than flame.
The floor beneath him cracked—not shattered—but pressed downward as if reality itself was being weighed.
This was not Super Saiyan.
This was Super Saiyan, Refined.
A Demonic Variant.
Zhou Fan opened his eyes.
The room felt smaller.
The world felt… manageable.
So this is what this transformation was meant to become.
Inside the sealed consciousness, Goku stared in stunned silence.
"…This feels different," he whispered.
"It's not angry. It's… quiet."
Zhou Fan nodded faintly.
"Because rage is no longer required."
Outside, Chi-Chi dropped to one knee.
Not from force—From instinct.
Tears welled in her eyes, though she didn't know why.
She felt it clearly now.
Her husband was still alive.
Still present.
But something else had wrapped itself around him—
Something ancient.
Something sovereign.
Something that did not belong to this world.
The pressure vanished as suddenly as it had come.
The night resumed.
Crickets chirped again.
Chi-Chi stood shakily, wiping her eyes.
"…Goku," she whispered,
"Please… come back the same."
Inside, Zhou Fan stood perfectly still, demonic-gold aura fading into nothingness.
He looked at his reflection in the darkened window.
A Saiyan's face.
An Emperor's gaze.
This body is no longer mortal, Zhou Fan decided.
It is a vessel.
Deep within, something irreversible had taken root.
And far away—
In the realm of gods—
Beerus jolted awake, eyes wide.
"Whis," he muttered,
"that wasn't a transformation."
Whis stared into the void, expression grim.
"No, Lord Beerus," he said quietly.
"That was a foundation being laid."