Shadows from the Stars

The air atop Mount Paozu hung heavy with the fading echoes of my clash with Videl, the golden dusk giving way to a twilight that draped the rugged slopes in deep indigo shadows. "This can't be," she whispered, her voice trembling as she stood rooted to the gravel-strewn clearing, her fists clenched tight enough to whiten her knuckles. "My dad, a liar? No way…" Her words trailed off, disbelief warring with the seeds of doubt I'd planted, her lifelong idol teetering on a pedestal I'd just kicked to rubble.

I watched her, my expression softening slightly, though I kept my stance firm, the weight of truth still pressing between us. "Look close, Videl," I said, my tone light but steady, raising a hand as a faint glow sparked in my palm, condensing into a shimmering orb of ki. With a flick of my wrist, I sent it streaking toward a distant peak, the energy cutting through the air like a comet; a deafening rumble followed as the mountain disintegrated into a cloud of dust, pebbles raining down in the silence that ensued.

Videl's eyes widened, her breath catching as she stared at the wreckage, the sheer scale of destruction sinking in. "You think your dad could do that?" I asked, folding my arms, my voice calm but pointed, letting the question hang like the dust settling around us. She shook her head, almost involuntarily, her mind racing to reconcile the frail, boastful man she knew with the power I'd just unleashed, a power her father's "tricks" could never mimic.

"Did you… use some kind of illusion just now?" she asked, her voice small, tinged with the innocence of someone grasping at straws. It was her father's line, the one he'd fed her since she was old enough to listen: anything beyond science, beyond his fists, was a con, a blindfold to fool the masses. I sighed, shaking my head, the futility of explaining ki to her hitting me like a dull thud; some lessons couldn't be taught, only shown.

Without a word, I crouched, then launched upward, my body blurring into a streak of light that sliced through the darkening sky, leaving her gaping below. "Ah!" she gasped, stumbling back, her helicopter's pink hull glinting faintly as she craned her neck to track my flight, my form vanishing over the treeline. "He flies? That's no trick!" she muttered, her voice rising with a mix of awe and frustration, her fists slamming into her thighs as resolve hardened her features.

"Bastard, I'll find you again," she growled, her teeth gritted, her curiosity now a burning need to unravel the mystery I'd become. She turned on her heel, stomping back to her chopper, the blades whirring to life as she lifted off, the craft's roar fading into the night as she vowed to hunt me down, to peel back the layers of power I wielded. Mount Paozu swallowed her departure, the silence returning, but her determination lingered like an echo in the wind.

Ten days slipped by, a quiet stretch under the mountain's watchful peaks, the rhythm of my life settling back into the grind of training. No sign of Videl's pink helicopter, no word from Krillin or Bulma; just me, the earth, and the steady climb of my strength, Super Saiyan II solidifying into a mid-tier mastery that hummed through my veins. If Lightning Cell crossed my path now, I'd crush him without a flicker of Ultra Instinct, a confidence born from sweat and solitude, the mountain's scars—split rocks and charred patches—testament to my progress.

I moved through katas on a sunlit plateau, the air crisp with the scent of pine and moss, my gi fluttering as I drove a fist into the void, the force rippling outward. Mid-strike, a prickle ran down my spine, a cluster of unfamiliar ki signatures brushing my senses, faint but distinct, stronger than any Earthling's yet tinged with a strange familiarity. "Who's this?" I murmured, lowering my arms, my gaze lifting to the sky as the energies drew closer, fast and purposeful, zeroing in on Mount Paozu, on me.

I stood still, dust swirling around my boots, my mind racing as I tracked the approaching presences, their intent clear as they honed in on my position. "Not strong, but… something's off," I said under my breath, a hunch tugging at me, the ki carrying echoes of a heritage I knew too well. Ten minutes ticked by, the tension building, until a shadow blotted the sun, a deafening roar splitting the air, far louder than Videl's chopper, a sound that shook the ground beneath my feet.

A massive shape descended, its bulk eclipsing the sky, a sleek, rounded craft with a hull scarred by cosmic travel, its design screaming Frieza's legion—those bulbous curves, the menacing sheen of its metal. "One of Frieza's ships?" I muttered, squinting as it touched down, flattening a swath of grass, its engines growling into silence. But the ki aboard was weak, a fraction of Frieza's monstrous power, and I relaxed slightly; Trunks had sliced that tyrant apart in another timeline, and these signatures couldn't touch a hundred million.

The hatch hissed open, a ramp unfurling with a metallic clang, and figures spilled out, lining up in two neat rows, their armor mismatched but bearing the faded insignia of Frieza's old guard. They were aliens, outlaws from across the stars, their postures rigid with discipline, their eyes glinting with a mix of fear and reverence. Then an older man emerged, stepping slowly down the ramp, his gray hair wild, one eye patched, his weathered frame clad in a tattered Saiyan combat suit, the kind Goku once wore before Earth softened his edges.

"Paragus?" I said, recognition clicking into place, my voice low as I pieced together the puzzle; Broly's father, a relic from the Saiyan diaspora, stood before me. "How the hell did he find me?" I wondered, my brow furrowing, the obscurity of Mount Paozu shattered by my fight with Cell, a beacon that had apparently reached the Southern Galaxy. Two months ago, I'd been a nobody here; now, word of my power had crossed light-years, drawing this grizzled warrior to my doorstep.

Paragus stopped a few paces away, his remaining eye locking onto mine, and he pressed his right hand to his chest, bowing slightly in a gesture I knew well—Saiyan respect for strength, a salute from one warrior to another. "Greetings, Mr. Son Goten," he said, his voice smooth, almost too polite, a veneer that didn't quite hide the glint of something darker in his gaze, a ruthlessness that marked him as a pureblood Saiyan. "I'm Paragus; it's an honor to meet you."

I tilted my head, unimpressed, my arms crossing as I sized him up, his courtesy ringing hollow against the instincts prickling my skin. "Don't care much for names," I said, my tone flat, cutting through his formality. "What I want to know is why you're here, what you want with me; give me a bad answer, and you're not leaving this mountain." My words carried a quiet threat, my interest snagged not by him, but by the shadow of his son, Broly, the legendary Super Saiyan whose power I'd come to crave.

Paragus's smile tightened, a flicker of tension in his posture, but he held his ground, his eye gleaming with a cunning I didn't trust. I leaned forward slightly, my senses sharp, ready for whatever game he'd brought from the stars, the promise of Broly's might a lure I couldn't ignore. Mount Paozu stood witness, its silence a canvas for the confrontation unfolding, a new chapter etched in the dust at my feet.

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