Saiyan stowaways on the Ark

The figure on the throne seemed to glare at the red-skinned, burly man below who was reporting to him.

"Hmm! But please rest assured, Lord Darles! According to the data displayed on the computer, that planet retains a certain degree of ecological environment, with large areas of forest and water, and even a civilized race that uses native minerals as energy! It is far superior to those ordinary planets!"

"I believe we will be able to grow high-quality spiritual tree fruits this time!"

After quickly finishing his sentence, the burly man immediately lowered his head and stared humbly at the floor.

The entire hall remained silent for a long time.

"Hmph, green plants and artificial energy... are certainly more worth looking forward to than those boring stars."

The man on the throne spoke arrogantly, shifting his posture and supporting his head with his hand.

"It is my honor to see you happy!"

But before the burly man could finish his flattering words, the man continued to ask:

"Have you figured out those strange energy reactions?"

Two short figures emerged from beside the burly man, speaking in equally obsequious voices:

"Those reactions, according to calculations, are actually just erroneous data caused by various disasters on the planet."

The two figures sang in harmony.

"The original civilization of that planet seems to have declined. Both the planet's surface and its surroundings are filled with abandoned man-made structures and machines, which are basically no longer in operation. It is inferred that the energy generated by the minerals used by the remaining inhabitants has caused various abnormal disasters. What an inconvenient energy source!"

"Declined? Was it originally highly civilized?"

The person on the throne pressed for answers.

"This... I'm sorry, I don't know. At least it doesn't exist in the records of Frieza's Legion. It might just be some remote planet that has developed an independent civilization, but it's definitely not comparable to us, the Björns!"

"And right now they're using such primitive technology that it's laughable. They're driving around cities to avoid disasters. It would be good if they could just take the spaceships hanging overhead away! Hehehe!"

The two short figures made a very contemptuous and mocking sound.

The figure on the throne rose, and the two dwarves' voices abruptly ceased.

The others present watched from the empty throne room as their revered figure walked toward the far end of the hall—a porthole reflecting a vast expanse of starry sky.

"...Forget it, it doesn't matter anymore. There's nothing to be afraid of in the face of simple natural disasters. And even races with advanced civilizations can only become food for the Spirit Tree."

The dim starry sky illuminated the figure in its entirety.

He was not tall, and his body was covered by a white cloak, but it was clear that he was wearing a simple, dark gray suit of armor underneath.

Beneath the sharp hairstyle were dark skin and a face that exuded a cold and fierce aura.

It was a face almost identical to Bardock's, only it looked somewhat young, young enough to be called a teenager.

What is the name of that planet?

The boy, known as Darles, turned around and asked.

Their astronomical knowledge was completely incompatible with the technology they used; the indigenous people simply called the land they inhabited—

"Terra!"

The two short men eagerly began to introduce themselves.

Upon hearing the address, Darles, gazing at the starry sky outside the porthole, gave the order:

"Then, 'Destruction Legion' main ship, full speed ahead, target Terra, let the Tree of Spirit take root and sprout there!"

"yes!!!!!!"

In the boundless sea of ​​stars, there floated colossal metal structures.

In this cold and desolate world, countless enormous stars can only serve as tiny specks of light, moving silently yet swiftly.

It surpasses the speed of light, traversing distances that countless civilizations could not cross over millions of years in an instant.

Something from the stars is about to descend.

Meanwhile, the Rhodes Island main ship.

"...anger?"

Tora had no choice but to listen to others' requests, as the loser. However, he was also confused by what Tomat had proposed.

"That's right. If you can draw out other people's fears and turn those fears into your strength, can't you do something similar?"

After Tomat finished speaking, the old knight Wald said, "If you want to get angry, I think it might work if someone else insults you?"

Thomas responded, "I'll tear his mouth apart before I get angry."

The old knight chuckled and said, "Weren't you already angry in that situation?"

Thomas didn't have time to argue with the old knight, so he explained again, "Alright, alright, what I want isn't that kind of anxious, jumping-up emotion, what I want is that kind of—well, how should I put it—planet-exploding rage?"

"...What is a planet? Some kind of Originium explosive?"

Tora looked even more confused, and he continued:

"But anger shouldn't be an option; our Nightmare abilities have always been related to fear, not anger..."

Thomas persisted: "Can't I even try?"

But this time, Tora simply had nothing to say.

Seeing this, Tomat pondered for a moment, then took a deep breath and spoke in a calmer tone:

"Let me be blunt: fear won't give you much power. Do you want to know why?"

Upon hearing this, Tora's body visibly twitched.

He looked up, clearly interested in the matter.

Following the other party's behavior, Tomat said in front of Tora and the old knight:

"Actually, I—or rather, my people—have done things similar to those of your people."

"You...are also conquerors?"

Tora countered with a question, while the old knight listened with great interest.

Thomas replied, "Pretty much. Regardless of whether they've heard of us or not, our actions have certainly instilled fear in many people—but fear hasn't given us any power."

"Perhaps it's a racial ability... or maybe it's just an ability unique to Nightmare."

The old knight then spoke.

"Maybe, but do you think there's another possibility?"

Thomas continued speaking.

"What if—it's just the power that fear gives us, which is insignificant compared to our original power? We are indeed strengthened by fear, but we don't notice it. If a drop of water flows into a lake, will the lake be aware of it?"

"You fight to strengthen yourselves by creating fear, but we fight for the sake of fighting."

“Now your people have been forgotten. In a time when no one fears you, your power is constantly weakening. We, on the other hand, have always fought with our own strength, which is why we will not become weak because of the so-called extinction of our race.”

Forgotten, then weakened.

Isn't this exactly the situation I've been experiencing lately?

Although Tuola firmly believed that he was a devout soldier of the Khan, he often dreamed of the ancient Khan standing in front of him.

Countless times I imitated tradition, countless times I studied techniques, and countless times I told myself—I am the last Kheshig under the Khan, I am the proud nightmare, not a lackey under King Sargon.

But he knew better than anyone that the era had ended, and that his grandfather, the great Khan, had died with the end of the dynasty.

The power of nightmares comes from fear.

He was a devout follower of the Khan, and fought to remind others of the Khan's scourge upon the land, so that it would no longer rot and degenerate.

But how much of his battles and the fear he brought can be attributed to the deceased Khan?

Who would fear that illusory dynasty?

"Fear taken from others is not powerful. When you become strong and become the object of others' fear, you will find that you don't actually need to rely on that kind of thing. All you need is strength, nothing more."

"Don't let the idea of ​​what a race 'should' bind you. Follow tradition, believe in destiny, and burden yourself with what others haven't finished. But have you ever thought about what you really want to do?"

"You fight, you embark on that so-called Heavenly Path, just to make others fear your race? To fear your emperor who has been dead for who knows how many years?"

A hint of disdain crept into Tomat's words.

"If you truly want to turn fear into power, you should make them fear you!!! You should—"

Before Tomat could finish speaking, Tora interrupted him, saying:

"I should become my own Khan and make them fear me."

Tora's voice was very calm and steady.

He seemed to have accepted a certain reality: in the past, he would never have tolerated anyone commenting on his beliefs.

Until he realized that his faith was actually very fragile.

He was never a believer.

He simply lost all purpose on the day his mother died, and then found a faith that allowed him to stop feeling lost and helpless.

He embarked on someone else's path to heaven simply to forgive his former weak and powerless self by adopting the self-identification of a martyr.

The Khan was a god in Tora's eyes.

He followed God, imitated God, embarked on a heavenly journey, sought his fellow countrymen, and lashed out at the shameful state of the knights in Casimir.

However, worshipping a dead god will not bring about any change.

If that's the case—then I'll just become a "god".

"I... blurted it out?"

Tora was still somewhat dazed.

People often refer to those who hold such views in religion as "blasphemers".

But since Tora never converted, how can there be any blasphemy?

He no longer needed to regard the Khan as a god; he only needed to see him as "the man he wanted to be."

The path to heaven is not a blind choice made to find a direction, but the current choice, even if it sounds like an unbelievable crazy idea, is enough to become "Tora's true path to heaven".

He made his own choice.