Vegeta Transforms Into A Super Saiyan—A Prince’s Ascension Amid Earth’s Gathering Shadows

The training yard at Bulma's Western Capital mansion buzzed with the hum of machinery and the faint crackle of energy. Vegeta stood before Renkai, his chest heaving from a recent spar, sweat beading on his brow. His combat detector beeped: Vegeta: 3 million (base). Renkai raised a hand, signaling calm, then studied him with a critical eye before shaking his head. "Your power's hit the mark for Super Saiyan, Vegeta—3 million's the threshold. But your S-cells? Not there yet. Stay on Earth, live a little, let them build up."

Vegeta's fists clenched, disappointment etching his face. "Live on Earth? I'm no farmer!" he snapped, but Renkai's gaze held firm, unyielding. With a grunt, Vegeta stormed off, pride stinging but resolve unshaken.

Half a year passed, a blur of gravity room sessions and reluctant assimilation. Vegeta mirrored Goku's madness—pushing his limits under crushing weight—but also softened, subtly, into Earth's rhythm. Then came Violet. A colonel in the Dog King's army, she'd once been a Red Ribbon enforcer under General Blue, a survivor of Tao Pai Pai's massacre who'd fled with pilfered cash when the legion crumbled. Resurrected after Raditz's rampage by Renkai's Shenron power, she'd fought through every cosmic invasion since—Saiyans, Frieza—leading rescue efforts with steely grit. How she'd caught Vegeta's eye was a mystery, but their bond sparked fast, softening edges he hadn't known he had.

Six months later, Renkai stood with Vegeta again, this time in a quiet corner of the mansion. "Congratulations," Renkai said, a rare warmth in his voice. "Your S-cells are ready—you can transform now." He tapped his detector, confirming the shift.

Vegeta's eyes blazed, a wildfire of triumph igniting within. "Finally," he breathed, the Super Saiyan dream within reach. Anger was the key, and Vegeta's reserves ran deep—years of humiliation under Frieza, the sting of inferiority. Still, Renkai opted for a nudge. "Let's make it sure," he said, summoning a Goku clone with a flicker of energy. Using Ginyu's body-swap technique, he shifted Vegeta's consciousness into the clone—a vessel primed for Super Saiyan.

Vegeta-as-Goku roared, golden light erupting as his hair spiked blond, eyes flashing green. The sensation seared into him—power, raw and boundless. Ten minutes later, Renkai swapped him back, reclaiming the clone. "You've felt it," he said, arms crossed. "Now do it yourself."

Vegeta hesitated, his gaze complex—gratitude warring with unease. "If you were our enemy," he murmured, "we'd be ash. No protagonist could stand against you."

Renkai tilted his head. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Vegeta growled, shaking it off. He focused, aura surging. Golden flames licked upward, his roar splitting the air as his hair turned blond, eyes emerald. Vegeta: 175 million (Super Saiyan 1). The earth trembled faintly, a prince reborn.

Renkai clapped, grinning. "Another Super Saiyan in the fold—well done."

Vegeta crossed his arms, smirking. "Don't get cozy—I'm not your lapdog, Shenron."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Prince," Renkai replied, amused. Vegeta's defiance masked a flicker of respect, but the gap between them loomed larger than ever—a chasm wider than Frieza's shadow. He swallowed the urge to lash out, turning away to savor his victory.

As Vegeta basked in his triumph, far beyond Earth's atmosphere, a massive spaceship sliced through the void, its engines a low growl. In the main control room, a throne loomed, occupied by a towering figure—horned, burly, a mirror of Frieza's second form. The Kurdish King, Frieza's father, sat rigid, his sharp eyes glinting with cold purpose. Frieza's fall had destabilized their empire, forcing the retired tyrant out of obscurity to reclaim control. Scouts sent to Earth had returned grim reports: his son, the Universe Emperor, was dead. After months of deliberation, the Kurdish King set course, his fleet trailing like a dark tide.

"How long until we reach this Earth?" he demanded, voice a low rumble.

A soldier in sleek armor bowed. "Half a year, Kurdish King, at current speed."

"No rash moves when we arrive," he barked, his glare sweeping the room. "Disobey, and you're dead." The crew flinched, chorusing, "Understood, Kurdish King!" Caution ruled him—Frieza's defeat hinted at perils beyond his grasp, and he'd not rush blindly where his stronger son had fallen.

Half a year later, Earth's wilderness stirred. A rocket-like machine materialized in a desolate stretch, its tripod legs sinking into the soil. Trunks leapt out, sword strapped to his back, his lavender hair catching the wind. He scanned the barren expanse, frowning. "Right era, wrong spot—close enough." His mother's briefing echoed: Goku was Earth's lone Super Saiyan in this time. Yet, his senses flared—multiple auras, titan-strong, dwarfed even Gohan's peak in his ravaged future. Vegeta: 175 million. Piccolo: 1.2 billion. Cell: 800 million. "Super Saiyans… and beyond? What's happened here?" Fear gnawed at him, the unknown a jagged edge.

He suppressed his power, capsulizing the time machine with a click, and melted into the shadows. Caution was his shield—this Earth was a enigma, its strength a riddle he'd unravel carefully.

Meanwhile, the Kurdish King's ship breached Earth's orbit, its shadow creeping across the sky. In Western Capital, Vegeta flexed his new form, oblivious to the dual storms approaching—one a vengeful father, the other a son from a shattered tomorrow. Renkai watched from the sidelines, a faint smile playing on his lips. The board was shifting, and he held the pieces.

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