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Chapter Text

Age 737: Planet Vegeta Raditz's pod hissed open with a rush of pressurized air, the metallic tang of recycled oxygen mixing with the acrid scent of charred thrusters. 

He had just returned from a grueling assignment bolstering the Saiyan conquest of a distant world—another notch in Frieza's ever-expanding empire. But today, conquests felt distant. His heart raced with a rare excitement: the chance to meet his newborn brother. For as long as he could remember, Raditz had yearned for siblings, a family bond stronger than the fleeting alliances of battle. Saiyan families were fractured by duty—his father Bardock off on endless missions, Raditz himself shuttled from one warzone to the next, and his mother Gine holding the fragile threads together at home. 

But now, with Kakarot's arrival, things would change eventually. He barreled through the dim corridors of their modest dwelling, his boots echoing against the cold stone floors. The door slid open, revealing Gine, her face lighting up with weary joy. She rushed forward, enveloping him in a fierce hug that belied her gentle nature. 

"Oh, my boy, I'm so glad you made it back in one piece," 

she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. Raditz returned the embrace, his long, wild hair brushing against her shoulder. 

"Me too, Mother. Where's Kakarot? Can I see him?" 

Gine nodded, her eyes softening with maternal pride. She led him to the incubation chamber, where the nursing pod hummed softly, its blue glow illuminating the tiny form suspended in nutrient fluid. Kakarot slept peacefully, his tail twitching faintly, oblivious to the universe's cruelties. 

He was a miniature version of their father—spiky black hair, fierce features already hinting at the warrior he would become. Raditz pressed his palm against the cool glass, a surge of protectiveness washing over him. This vulnerable bundle was his blood, his responsibility. 

"So, you're my little brother, huh?" 

he whispered, a genuine smile cracking his battle-hardened facade. Gine approached from behind, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

"He certainly is the spitting image of your father. Once he's grown, you two will have to look out for each other, Raditz."

"I'll protect him, Mom. Whatever it takes..." 

Raditz vowed, leaning his forehead against the pod. In that moment, the weight of Saiyan pride melted away, replaced by a brother's unbreakable promise. 

"I can't wait to meet you properly, Kakarot. You and I—we'll conquer all odds together." 

_________________________________________

Present Day, Earth:

Some time after Goku and Vegeta's return to Earth from their training on Beerus' planet, and after they'd caught up on the chaos that had unfolded in their absence—the wild new transformations Piccolo and Gohan had unlocked, the revival of Cell in his monstrous Max form, and the ultimate downfall of the Red Ribbon Army—Goku decided to take a rare day off. He'd been pushing himself hard lately, sparring with Broly and Vegeta to hone his Ultra Instinct, but today was different. It was a day heavy with memory, one he marked quietly every year: the anniversary of Raditz's arrival on Earth... and his death. Goku rarely spoke of his brother.

Not to Gohan certainly, who might not understand the complicated mix of grief and regret, and certainly not to the others. They saw Raditz as just another enemy, a ruthless invader who'd kidnapped Gohan and tried to force Goku into Frieza's fold. But to Goku, he was family—blood he'd never known until it was too late. The Saiyan warrior had mourned in silence, wishing things could have been different. Raditz's potential had been squandered under Frieza's boot, and not even the Dragon Balls could bring him back now; too much time had passed, and perhaps it was for the best. Some wounds were meant to stay closed.

Deep in a secluded forest, far from Capsule Corp or his home on Mount Paozu, Goku stood before the simple grave he'd built in secret shortly after his first resurrection. It was nothing fancy—just a weathered stone marker etched with Raditz's name, surrounded by overgrown grass and whispering trees. He'd buried what little remained: the shattered armor and scouter he'd found upon his return from the afterlife. The body itself had likely been claimed by wild animals, a grim fate for a proud Saiyan warrior. Goku sat cross-legged on the cool earth, the wind rustling leaves around him like forgotten whispers.

"Hey, big brother,"

Goku began, his voice soft and awkward, rubbing the back of his head as he often did when emotions got tangled.

"Long time no see. I know I should visit more, but... well, you get it. The universe just keeps throwin' stuff at me. No breaks, huh?"

He chuckled faintly, pulling his knees up to rest his chin on them. The scene felt almost poetic, with the autumn sun filtering through the branches, casting dappled shadows on the grave.

"Gohan's unlocked this crazy new Saiyan form—Beast, they call it. Can you believe it? My kid, stronger than ever. I wish you could've seen him in action. So much happened, we found another Sayian, Broly, he's REALLY powerful, and Vegeta and I unlocked new forms as well..."

Goku's smile faded into a sigh.

"You know... I don't care what Vegeta or anyone else says. I think you could've been the strongest of us all. If you'd had the chance to train properly, maybe you'd have hit Super Saiyan first. Heck, I was way weaker than you when you showed up, and look at me now."

He hung his head, the weight of wasted potential pressing down like an invisible gravity.

"Why'd it have to go down like that, Raditz? Was it really worth it—all that anger, serving Frieza? We could've been a team. Brothers fightin' side by side."

Goku fell silent, staring at the stone as if expecting an answer. The grave, of course, offered none. It stung to know Raditz's spirit was long gone, lost to the afterlife's bureaucracy or whatever King Yemma had decided. After half an hour of quiet reflection, Goku stood, brushing dirt from his orange gi. He placed a hand on the gravestone, imagining it was his brother's shoulder—broad and unyielding.

"Well, goodbye for now, brother. I'll swing by again soon. Promise."

With that, he leaped into the sky, the rush of wind drying the single tear that had escaped down his cheek.

___________________________________

Meanwhile, far from the somber Saiyan's vigil, in the shadowy depths of an uncharted mountain range, the Pilaf Gang pressed on with their latest scheme. Emperor Pilaf, ever the pint-sized megalomaniac, had gotten a tip from a shady informant about a hidden Red Ribbon Army relic sealed away in these forgotten caves. With the army's recent defeat fresh in the news, Pilaf saw an opportunity: whatever was buried here might be the key to finally toppling Goku and claiming world domination. The trio—Pilaf, Shu, and Mai—had been trekking through the damp, echoing tunnels for over an hour, guided only by a flickering flashlight.

The air grew colder with every step, carrying the musty scent of abandonment.

"Are you sure about this, boss?" Shu whined, his dog-like ears twitching nervously. "It's freezing down here, and I don't like the vibe."

Pilaf waved him off with an imperious flick of his tiny hand. "Quit your bellyaching, Shu! This could be our ticket to power—something the Red Ribbon stashed away for a rainy day. We get to it first, and Goku won't know what hit him!"

At last, they stumbled upon it: a massive iron door, rusted but intact, emblazoned with the faded Red Ribbon emblem. Pilaf's eyes lit up like fireworks.

"There it is! I told you so!"

He fumbled with a crowbar, prying at the seams, while Mai spotted a nearby control panel. Using a gadget they'd swiped from Capsule Corp—a sleek hacking device—she bypassed the ancient security protocols. With a groan of protesting metal, the doors swung open, revealing a pristine, dust-covered laboratory frozen in time.

Cautiously, they stepped inside, their flashlight beam sweeping over consoles, test tubes, and flickering monitors. In the center stood a large medical pod, suspended in a viscous, reddish fluid that obscured its contents.

"Is that it?" Mai whispered, edging closer.

Through the murk, she could make out a humanoid silhouette—tall, muscular, imposing. Pilaf grinned maniacally, pressing his palms against the glass.

"Whatever—or whoever—this is, it's going to make us unstoppable. Mai, drain the tank. I want to meet our new ally."

Mai hesitated, her instincts screaming warning, but she complied. Tapping into the panel with the Capsule Corp tool, she initiated the sequence. The fluid gurgled away, revealing a figure hooked up to tubes and wires: a towering man with long, wild blonde hair, his body rippling with engineered muscle. He looked eerily familiar, like a twisted echo of a long-dead Saiyan.

"Whoa, another android!" Shu yelped, bouncing on his toes.

The monitors sprang to life with beeps and whirs, vital signs spiking. The figure's eyes fluttered open, glowing with an unnatural red hue. The gang backed up as he stirred, his aura crackling with latent power. With a savage roar, he tore free from the restraints, shattering the pod in a spray of glass and fluid. He landed in a crouch, taking a deep, ragged breath—his first in decades.

"Where... is Kakarot?" His voice was a low, gravelly growl, laced with venom.

Pilaf blinked, exchanging glances with his minions.

"Kakarot? You mean Goku? You hate him too?"

The android straightened to his full height, towering over them like a storm cloud.

"More than you can imagine."

His eyes flared crimson, veins bulging as suppressed rage bubbled to the surface. Pilaf's face split into a gleeful smile.

"Perfect! That's exactly why we need you! Goku's always ruining my plans, he and Vegeta—"

The mention of the Saiyan prince ignited something primal. The android's aura exploded in a burst of dark energy, shaking the chamber.

"VEGETA?!"

he bellowed, fists clenching so hard the air hummed.

"Where is he?! I'll tear him apart—rip his head clean off this time!"

The gang cowered, Pilaf sweating bullets. "P-please, calm down! We'll help you find them, but don't kill us, Mr... uh, sir? What's your name?"

The android paused, his breathing steadying as fragmented memories reassembled.

"My name... is Raditz. Son of Bardock."

He clenched his jaw, a sinister smirk forming.

"And I want my revenge."

The Pilaf Gang swallowed hard, realizing they'd just unleashed a monster. But in their twisted world, that might be exactly what they needed.

Chapter Text

Age 737: Planet Iserl 

The smoldering ruins of Planet Iserl stretched out like a graveyard of shattered stone and twisted metal, the air thick with the stench of ozone and charred earth. It had been a straightforward conquest—a primitive world ripe for the picking under Frieza's banner. Raditz stood amid the debris, his scouter flickering with residual energy readings, flanked by the diminutive yet imposing Prince Vegeta and the hulking brute Nappa. 

They were a mismatched trio, bound by survival and Saiyan pride, but today, that bond felt frayed. A transmission crackled through their scouters, delivering the unthinkable: Planet Vegeta, their homeworld, obliterated in a cataclysmic explosion, "meteor strike," the official line claimed. 

A wave of grief crashed over him, raw and unbidden. His parents, his people... gone. But he couldn't show it. Weakness was death in their world. He forced a casual tone, glancing at Vegeta, who lounged against a toppled pillar, casually devouring a cluster of exotic fruits scavenged from the locals. 

"I guess we're pretty lucky we didn't follow Frieza's order to return home," 

Raditz said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. Vegeta shrugged, juice dribbling down his chin as he bit into another piece. 

"Lucky? Hmph. Now I'll never be King Vegeta..." 

His words carried more annoyance than sorrow, as if the extinction of their race was a mere inconvenience to his ambitions. It baffled Raditz—how could the prince be so detached? Nappa lumbered over, his massive frame casting a shadow. 

"Vegeta, don't you have a brother who was sent off-planet?" 

Vegeta's eyebrow arched, a flicker of recollection crossing his sharp features. 

"Oh, right—Tarble. Wonder what happened to that weakling... Nah, doesn't matter anyway." 

He dismissed it with a wave, popping another fruit into his mouth. 

"What about you, Raditz? Didn't you have a brother too?" 

Nappa prodded, his tone oblivious to the knife he twisted. Raditz's stomach churned at the mention of Kakarot, the tiny infant he'd last seen in that nursing pod. But he masked it with indifference, crossing his arms. 

"Uh, yeah, but he was gonna be a low-class warrior anyway. Still floating in his pod—a disgrace." 

The lie tasted bitter, a far cry from the protectiveness he truly felt. 

"But wait, mom said she send him off in a pod? Oh well, who cares." 

Raditz forced a nod, his eyes drifting to the alien sky.  

"Oh well whatever, I couldn't care less." 

Internally, he screamed otherwise. He didn't want to drag Kakarot into this life of endless violence—not yet. Wherever his brother had landed, Raditz hoped it was safe, far from Frieza's grasp. I promise you, little brother, he thought, staring at the distant stars, I will find you one day, and we'll fight side by side. Take care of yourself until then.

___________________________________

Present Day, Earth

Raditz's awakening was a haze of disorientation and raw power surging through his veins—or whatever synthetic equivalent now coursed through his enhanced body. His muscles ached from decades of stasis, stiff and unyielding like rusted armor, but beneath the discomfort lay an unfamiliar potency. 

His power level had skyrocketed into realms he could scarcely comprehend, far beyond the meager 1,200 he'd wielded during his ill-fated invasion of Earth. The Red Ribbon scientists had tampered with his biology on a fundamental level, fusing Saiyan DNA with android augmentations. He was no longer just a warrior; he was a masterpiece of vengeance, engineered for eternity. 

Glancing down at his reflection in a shattered shard of the pod's glass, Raditz froze. His once-jet-black hair now cascaded in wild, golden spikes, and his eyes gleamed with an piercing teal hue—wait, no, greener than he remembered from tales of legendary Super Saiyans. What sorcery was this? The transformation felt permanent, locked in place, his aura flickering with golden energy when enraged.

Fortunately, the diminutive Pilaf Gang, still cowering in the lab's shadows, filled in the gaps with their fragmented knowledge. 

"Th-that's what a Super Saiyan looks like," 

Pilaf stammered, clutching his hacking device like a lifeline. 

"From what we've seen of Goku—er, Kakarot—he turns all golden and powerful when he gets mad. But you... you're stuck like that now? The files say the experiments stabilized the form permanently. Made you stronger, faster, unkillable." 

Raditz clenched his fists, feeling the energy hum through him like an unending storm. Super Saiyan—achieved in his sleep, through twisted science rather than willpower. It was a bitter gift, but one he'd wield nonetheless. The gang, eager to placate their hulking new "ally," spilled everything they knew about the years since his death.

They recounted Vegeta's arrival nearly three decades ago, the prince's initial conquest plans thwarted by Kakarot's growing strength. The Android saga, where cybernetic killers like 17 and 18 had rampaged. Cell's grotesque perfection, absorbing lives to become a nightmare. Frieza's resurrection, which the gang had witnessed firsthand during one of their botched schemes. Even the recent clash with the revived Red Ribbon Army and Cell Max was something they managed to find out and tell Raditz about. 

With each tale, Raditz's rage built like a pressure cooker. Kakarot—his weakling brother—had surpassed him, unlocked forms like Super Saiyan Blue, and built a life of heroism. Yet through it all, not once had he sought to revive Raditz. The Dragon Balls could summon the dead, rewrite reality, but Kakarot had let his own blood rot in obscurity. 

And Vegeta? That arrogant princeling lived on, redeemed, training alongside Kakarot like some honored rival. The betrayal stung deeper than any wound from their fateful battle. Raditz's heart—artificial or not—twisted with hurt, morphing into a venomous resolve. No forgiveness. Only annihilation. He'd drown this mudball planet in the blood of Kakarot's allies, his family, his precious Earth. Then he'd burn the remnants to ash. 

Yet, amid the fury, an unexpected flicker of gratitude stirred for the Pilaf Gang. These bumbling fools had freed him from his liquid prison, given him a second chance at glory. They weren't warriors, but their cowardice had a certain... endearing quality. 

"What are you gonna do now, Raditz?" 

Shu asked, his dog-like snout quivering as he eyed the towering android-Saiyan hybrid. Raditz smirked, his green eyes narrowing with cold calculation. He had a plan—one that harkened back to his roots under the tyrant's banner. 

"I'll leave this forsaken rock for now. And you'd be wise to do the same. When I return, it'll be a graveyard for anyone who stands on it." 

The gang exchanged horrified glances as Raditz rose, clad only in the tattered undergarments from his pod. He strode out of the lab without a backward glance, emerging into the mountain's crisp night air. The wind whipped through his golden mane, but he felt nothing—no chill, no discomfort. His body was a marvel: lungs engineered to recycle oxygen for weeks, skin impervious to even vacuum's bite, senses sharpened to detect cosmic energies from light-years away. 

The Red Ribbon files, hastily skimmed by Mai, confirmed it—he was near-indestructible, a living weapon invisible to most scanners. Taking a deep, experimental breath, Raditz focused his ki, channeling it into his core. Blood flow—obeyed his will like never before, exhilarating him. He lifted off the ground with explosive force, rocketing skyward like a hypersonic missile. 

The sound barrier shattered in his wake, the atmosphere parting as he pierced the stratosphere. Stars twinkled above, the void beckoning. Just before breaking free of Earth's gravity, Raditz paused, hovering in the exosphere. He glanced back at the blue marble below, a swirl of oceans and clouds hiding the brother who'd forsaken him. Doubt flickered—could he have chosen differently? Joined Kakarot, trained, become something more? No. The pain was too raw, the betrayal too deep. Vengeance was his path now. 

With a snarl, he propelled into the cosmos, his golden aura trailing like a comet's tail. His destination: Zyrox, the nearest Frieza Force outpost he recalled from his scouting days—a frigid world on the edge of Earth's solar system, still under the emperor's fractured empire. It would take days at his current speed, but wrath fueled him better than any starship. Frieza would welcome a loyal warrior back—or Raditz would force his hand. Either way, the galaxy would tremble. 

Back on Earth, in the dim glow of the abandoned lab, the Pilaf Gang huddled in stunned silence. Pilaf paced frantically, his tiny crown askew. 

"What have we done? That monster's going to turn the planet into a bonfire!" 

Mai nodded grimly, clutching the hacking device. 

"And us with it. He warned us to leave, but where would we go? We're not space-faring conquerors." 

Shu's ears drooped. 

"We have to tell someone. Goku—he's the only one who can stop this. If Raditz comes back with Frieza's army..." 

Pilaf stopped, his beady eyes widening. For once, pride took a backseat to survival. 

"As much as it pains me... yes. We warn the idiot Saiyan. Better to live under his thumb than die in Raditz's inferno." 

With reluctant resolve, they gathered their gadgets and slipped into the night, bound for Capsule Corp—or wherever Goku might be found. The clock was ticking, and the shadow of a vengeful brother loomed larger than ever.

___________________________________

Two days later, in the depth of space 

In the opulent command chamber of his flagship, Frieza lounged upon his throne. The vast viewport before him framed the endless void of space, dotted with conquered stars and the flickering lights of his fractured empire. His underlings scurried about like insects, monitoring scanners and relaying reports from distant outposts. But when one minion—a quivering, amphibian-like alien—approached with a hesitant bow, Frieza's wine-red eyes narrowed in mild irritation. 

"Lord Frieza," 

the minion stammered, clutching a holographic datapad. 

"We've received a priority hail from the Zyrox outpost. It's... a Saiyan, my lord. Claiming to be Raditz, brother of that infernal monkey, Goku. He insists on speaking with you directly." 

Frieza's tail flicked lazily against the armrest, a soft thump echoing in the chamber. Raditz? The name dredged up memories of a bygone era—Vegeta's failed conquest of Earth, the Saiyan trio's humiliating defeat. Raditz had been the first to fall, slain by his own brother and that Namekian pest. Dead for decades. Yet here was this ghost, clawing back from oblivion? A smirk tugged at Frieza's lips, his curiosity piqued. In a universe of resurrections and mad science, nothing was truly impossible. 

"Another Saiyan crawling out of the woodwork?" 

Frieza mused aloud, his voice a silken purr laced with venom. He drummed his clawed fingers on the throne's control panel. 

"Very well. Patch him through to my private frequency. Let's see what this apparition has to say." 

The minion nodded frantically, tapping commands into the console. A holographic screen materialized before Frieza, flickering to life with a static hiss before stabilizing into a clear transmission. There, against the backdrop of Zyrox's barren command center, stood Raditz—or what had become of him. His frame was even more imposing than Frieza remembered: towering muscles etched with veins, golden hair cascading wildly like a perpetual Super Saiyan mane, and eyes glowing with an unnatural teal intensity. He wore scavenged Frieza Force armor, ill-fitting but functional, scavenged from the outpost's stores. 

"Raditz, my boy," 

Frieza drawled, leaning forward with feigned warmth, his hand propping up his chin. 

"Is that truly you? I must say, you look... rejuvenated." 

The Saiyan's voice crackled through the speakers, deep and gravelly, edged with restrained fury. 

"Yes, Lord Frieza. It's me. In the flesh—or what's left of it." Frieza chuckled softly, a sound like cracking ice. 

"My, my, what a delightful surprise. Reports of your demise were quite thorough. Skewered by your own kin, wasn't it? Where have you been hiding all these years, hmm?" 

Raditz exhaled heavily, his broad shoulders rising and falling. 

"Not hiding. Trapped. After my... defeat on Earth, those Red Ribbon fools scavenged my body. They rebuilt me—fused me with Geeros android tech while I was in a comatose state. I've been dormant for decades, enhanced beyond recognition." 

Frieza's interest deepened, his tail coiling thoughtfully. 

"Fascinating. And now you reach out to me? I find your motives... opaque, Raditz. What game are you playing?" 

A low, bitter chuckle emanated from the hologram. 

"No games, Lord Frieza. Just revenge—pure and simple. I want to drown that wretched planet in the blood of my brother and his pathetic allies. From what your men here on Zyrox tell me, and from the scraps I've gathered, you share that sentiment. Kakarot humiliated us both." 

Frieza pondered this, his mind racing through calculations. Goku—Kakarot—had grown into a thorn that pierced even gods. The Saiyan had thwarted Frieza's golden resurgence, survived the Tournament of Power, and now wielded powers like Ultra Instinct. But alliances had their uses, especially with disposable pawns. 

"A tempting proposition," Frieza admitted, his voice dripping with intrigue. "But last I recall, your power level barely crested 1,500. A flea compared to Kakarot's current might. What makes you think you can contribute?" 

Raditz's lips curled into a savage grin, his aura flaring faintly even through the transmission—a golden haze that didn't fade. 

"I've ascended far beyond a mere Saiyan, Lord Frieza. Those enhancements? They locked me into Super Saiyan permanently. I have endless power at my disposal. My body doesn't tire, doesn't age. I'm a weapon now, stronger than you can imagine." 

Frieza's brow arched—though he lacked actual eyebrows, the gesture conveyed perfect skepticism. 

"Permanently? How intriguing. And you achieved this legendary form while... napping? Do elaborate." 

"Let's just say the Red Ribbon's mad scientists played god with my biology," 

Raditz replied evasively, his eyes narrowing. 

"Saiyan resilience fused with android efficiency. Enough to make me confident I can crush Kakarot's skull myself. But I'm no fool—his friends have powered up too. That prince Vegeta, the Namekian. I need strong allies to ensure total annihilation. And from what I've heard, you've unlocked new forms yourself. Golden Frieza, was it? I catched up, together, we could erase them all." 

The proposal hung in the air like a charged ki blast. Frieza weighed it carefully. His own vendetta burned hot—visions of Goku's broken body at his feet fueled his every scheme. Raditz could be a useful tool, a blunt instrument to soften the defenses before Frieza struck the killing blow. If the Saiyan's claims held true, this hybrid abomination might even rival Broly's raw fury. And if not? Well, disposable allies were easy to discard. 

"Very well, Raditz," Frieza said at last, his tone shifting to one of predatory alliance. "I accept your proposal. Let's convene in person soon. We have much to discuss—strategies, forces, and perhaps a demonstration of your newfound power." 

"With pleasure, Lord Frieza," 

Raditz growled, his holographic image flickering with anticipation. 

"I'll see you soon." 

The transmission cut, leaving Frieza in contemplative silence. He rose from his throne, clasping his hands behind his back as he approached the viewport. Stars streaked by in hyperspace, but his gaze pierced beyond them, scheming with wicked delight. An undead Saiyan, hungry for fratricide? The universe never ceased to amuse. With Raditz as his Super Saiyan vanguard, revenge on Goku would be sweeter than ever. A satisfied, chilling smile spread across his face— the prelude to cosmic carnage.

Chapter Text

The rendezvous point was a forsaken rock called Exegal, a barren world suspended in the neutral void between Earth's humble solar system and the jagged fringes of Frieza's sprawling empire. Raditz had arrived first, hurtling through the interstellar black on nothing but his own energy, his golden aura carving a silent comet trail across the stars. It was a peculiar sensation—no clunky spaceship, no life-support hum, just the endless expanse pressing against his skin like a lover's indifferent caress. The planet's faint radiation prickled faintly, an irritating buzz like phantom insects, but his Red Ribbon enhancements shrugged it off. He was beyond such trivial annoyances now: a body impervious to cosmic rays, and power that thrummed eternally in his veins.

Pacing the cracked crimson soil under a bruised-purple sky, Raditz felt the stirrings of impatience. Decades lost to stasis, and now this—waiting like some lowly scout. But the plan was sound: ally with Frieza, harness his resources, and return to Earth not as a forgotten corpse, but as an avenging storm. Goku—Kakarot—would beg for the mercy he'd never shown. A shadow eclipsed the feeble sun, heralding the arrival of Frieza's flagship. The colossal vessel pierced the atmosphere with a thunderous roar, its hull gleaming like polished ivory against the haze.

Hangar bays yawned open, disgorging a procession of elite guards—hulking Ginyu Force remnants and cybernetic enforcers—who fanned out in precise formation. At their center emerged the tyrant himself: Frieza, in his sleek, final form, tail swaying with aristocratic poise. His skin shimmered under the alien light, lips curled in that signature smug grin, hands clasped behind his back as if strolling through a conquered palace rather than a dust-choked wasteland. Raditz straightened, a flicker of old deference surfacing despite his upgrades.

For the first time in decades, they stood face-to-face—the lowly Saiyan soldier and the emperor who'd once crushed worlds beneath his boot.

"Raditz," Frieza purred, his voice a velvet blade, laced with mock warmth.

"How delightful to see you upright and breathing. I must admit, I half-expected this to be some elaborate hoax. Back from the dead, are we? I know the feeling all too well."

His eyes—sharp, amethyst slits—raked over Raditz's form, lingering on the perpetual golden spikes of his hair and the unnatural gleam in his teal eyes. Raditz inclined his head in a shallow bow, the gesture automatic, a ghost of Frieza Force protocol.

"Lord Frieza. The pleasure's mine. I'm... functional. Better than ever, in fact. But why here, of all forsaken holes? What's so vital about this dustball that we couldn't convene on one of your flagships?"

Frieza's grin widened, revealing a flash of pointed teeth. He sidestepped with fluid grace, motioning Raditz to follow as he sauntered toward a jagged ridge.

"Patience, my resurrected friend. Exegal has served me loyally for eons—a quiet vassal world, stripped of its resources long ago. But recently, my scouts unearthed something... exquisite. Come. Walk with me, and all will be revealed."

Intrigue overrode Raditz's wariness. He fell into step beside the diminutive tyrant, his massive frame casting a long shadow over Frieza's. The air hummed with unspoken tension—the fragile truce of two predators circling the same prey. As they crested the ridge, Frieza's tail flicked upward, a silent command.

"Observe."

They launched skyward in unison, ki flaring briefly to propel them through the thickening clouds. The atmosphere grew thin and electric, parting like a veil to reveal... a marvel. Suspended high above the planet's surface, defying gravity and logic, loomed a colossal palace of ivory stone and crystalline spires—a floating sanctuary, ancient and otherworldly. Raditz's eyes widened fractionally; he'd expected barren outposts or hidden armories, not this ethereal edifice drifting like a god's forgotten throne.

They alighted on a vast marble terrace, the wind whispering through ornate archways etched with unfamiliar runes. Guards snapped to attention but kept their distance, sensing the charged aura between master and minion. Raditz scanned the structure, his enhanced senses picking up faint ki residues—echoes of long-dead guardians, perhaps.

"What in the hell is this place?"

Raditz demanded, his gravelly voice echoing off the walls as they pressed deeper into the labyrinthine halls. Torches of eternal blue flame flickered in sconces, casting dancing shadows that seemed to watch their every step. Frieza's laughter was a soft, tinkling chime, devoid of true mirth.

"This, Raditz, is a guardian's eternal vigil—a Hyperbolic Time Chamber outpost, one of many scattered across the cosmos for planetary overseers. Earth has a twin to this, perched atop its pathetic shrine. But buried in its heart lies a treasure beyond gems or slaves: a realm where time bends to our will."

They halted before a massive, rune-carved door of polished obsidian, humming with suppressed energy. Frieza placed a clawed hand against it, and the seals parted with a resonant groan, revealing a yawning antechamber bathed in sterile white light.

"Behold. The chamber itself. Enter, and prepare to shed your mortal limits."

Raditz stepped forward, curiosity sharpening into hunger. The air inside was unnaturally still, heavy with potential—like the breath before a supernova.

"Time bends how, exactly? Don't toy with me, Lord Frieza."

The tyrant's eyes gleamed with sadistic glee.

"A single day out here equates to a full year within—endless cycles of toil without the universe aging a wink. Crafted for training, enlightenment... or torment. I've eyed it covetously but never indulged. Too solitary, you see. But with you as my sparring partner? We'll forge blades sharp enough to carve through gods."

Raditz's lips twisted into a predatory smile, the promise igniting his core. Vengeance wasn't just a fire; it was a forge, and this chamber its bellows. They crossed the threshold together, the door sealing behind them with finality.

The interior unfolded into an infinite expanse: a vast, featureless void of blinding white, gravity fluctuating like a living thing, thin air that clawed at the lungs of lesser beings. Raditz felt it immediately—the disorienting pull, the way seconds stretched into eternities. His android physiology adapted swiftly, but even he sensed the psychological edge: isolation as ally or enemy.

"You grasp the stakes now, don't you?"

Frieza continued, his voice carrying effortlessly across the abyss. He paced with casual menace, tail lashing.

"Goku and that pompous prince Vegeta have bloated into monstrosities—Ultra Instinct, Ultra Ego, forms that mock the natural order. And worst of all, they've tamed the true legend: Broly, the berserker Saiyan whose rage could shatter galaxies. My scouts unearthed him and his kin on a fringe world years ago—raw power unbound, greater than even your brother's at his peak. I've clashed with him; the scars linger. We enter here equals in hatred, but we emerge as exterminators."

Raditz halted mid-stride, the revelation hitting like a ki-infused haymaker. Broly—the name evoked half-remembered Frieza Force legends, whispers of a Super Saiyan born under a crimson moon, destined to eclipse all.

"The Legendary Super Saiyan? Alive? Allied with them?"

Disbelief warred with a surge of dark envy. While he'd slumbered, the universe had birthed rivals that dwarfed his old self. But now? With this chamber, he'd eclipse them all.

"I've missed... everything. Fill in the voids, Lord Frieza. Every detail, every power shift."

Frieza paused, turning with a theatrical flourish. For a heartbeat, camaraderie flickered in his gaze—two immortals bound by spite. He clapped a hand on Raditz's shoulder, the gesture almost avuncular, though his claws pricked warning.

"In due time, my golden ape. Chronicles can wait; ascension cannot. We've eternity compressed into moments. Shall we begin? Show me this 'permanent' Super Saiyan of yours isn't just pretty hair."

Raditz shrugged off the touch with a low chuckle, his aura igniting in a golden corona that warped the chamber's sterile light. Exhilaration coursed through him—stiff muscles loosening, synthetic blood singing with potential. Barriers? He'd shatter them like brittle bone.

"Lead on, Emperor. Let's see what hell we can unleash."

As Frieza's own power stirred—a subtle golden haze coiling around him—the chamber seemed to pulse in anticipation. Outside, Exegal spun indifferently onward, a single day dawning and dying. Inside, empires would rise and fall in the fires of their ambition. The training commenced, a symphony of clashes and revelations, forging not just warriors, but harbingers of apocalypse.

Chapter Text

It was one of those rare, tranquil days for Goku—not spent shattering planets or clashing with gods, but tending to his modest farm on Mount Paozu. The sun beat down warmly as he hoed rows of vegetables, sweat beading on his brow despite his superhuman endurance. Sure, he'd rather be trading blows with Vegeta or unraveling the mysteries of Ultra Instinct, but there was a simple zen in the mundane rhythm of planting and harvesting.

It even helped with Vegeta's latest advice: cultivating a calm mind to rival Jiren's unyielding willpower. "Focus on the quiet, Kakarot," the prince had grumbled during their last spar. "Strength isn't just in your fists—it's in not letting the storm rattle you." As the morning stretched into noon, Goku's stomach growled like a distant thunderclap. He wiped his hands on his orange gi and headed inside, where Chi-Chi had whipped up a feast fit for a Saiyan army: towering stacks of rice bowls, sizzling meats, and enough noodles to feed a village.

He dove in with his usual gusto, devouring plate after plate while Chi-Chi watched with a mix of exasperation and affection. "Honestly, Goku, slow down! You'll choke one of these days." Mid-bite, his Capsule Corp smartwatch beeped—a gadget Bulma had insisted he wear for "emergencies," though he mostly used it to check weather for the crops. Glancing at the screen, he saw Trunks' face pop up.

"Hey, Trunks! What's up, buddy?"

Goku asked through a mouthful of food, his carefree grin unwavering. Trunks' expression was anything but lighthearted, his teenage features etched with urgency.

"Uh, hey, Goku. You need to get over to Capsule Corp right away. There's something... really important you have to hear."

Goku swallowed a massive gulp, curiosity piqued. Frieza again? Nah, he'd sense that tyrant's slimy ki from a galaxy away. Maybe some new tech Bulma cooked up?

"Alright, I'll be there in a sec!"

He hung up, planting two fingers to his forehead. Focusing on the familiar hum of Capsule Corp's energy—careful not to zero in on Bulma and Vegeta's private quarters like that awkward time last year—he vanished in a shimmer of Instant Transmission. Reappearing in the bustling heart of Bulma's lab, Goku materialized with a soft pop, startling Trunks who was tinkering with a gadget nearby. Tools clattered to the floor as the half-Saiyan jumped.

"Whoa, Goku! Warn a guy next time."

Goku chuckled, rubbing the back of his head.

"Sorry 'bout that! So, what's the big deal? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Trunks sighed, motioning for him to follow down the corridor.

"You won't believe it. Come on—this way."

His voice carried a weight that made Goku's instincts tingle; whatever it was, it wasn't good. They entered the spacious living room, a cozy contrast to the high-tech chaos outside: plush couches, holographic screens flickering with data, and a panoramic view of West City's skyline. But the occupants stole the show. There sat the Pilaf Gang—Emperor Pilaf fidgeting on a stool too tall for his diminutive frame, Shu nervously twitching his dog-like ears, and Mai leaning against the wall with crossed arms.

Across from them loomed Vegeta, arms folded in his signature scowl, exuding impatience like a dark aura. Goku blinked, waving cheerfully.

"Oh, hey, everyone! Pilaf? Long time no see! What's going on? Trunks said it was important—did you guys find some new Dragon Balls or something?"

Vegeta's eyes narrowed, his voice a low growl.

"Spare us the idiocy, Kakarot. These fools have outdone themselves this time. Go on—tell him what you've unleashed."

He jerked his head toward the gang, belittling them with a dismissive glare. Goku planted his fists on his hips, ever the optimist.

"Aw, come on, Vegeta. Don't be so hard on 'em. I'm sure it's not that bad. Right, Pilaf?"

Pilaf squirmed under the scrutiny, rubbing his bald head awkwardly.

"Well... about that, Goku. Vegeta's not wrong. This time, we might've really screwed up. Big time."

Goku tilted his head, puzzled.

"Screwed up how? Spill it!" Pilaf took a deep breath, his voice trembling. "A few days ago, we were poking around an uncharted mountain range—chasing rumors of old Red Ribbon tech that could help with, uh, stuff. We found this sealed vault, hacked it open... and inside was a pod. With your brother in it. Raditz. We woke him up—accidentally, I swear!"

The words hung in the air like a charged ki blast. Goku froze, his easygoing smile faltering as a whirlwind of emotions crashed over him. Raditz? Alive? It had to be a joke—his brother had died decades ago, impaled in that desperate battle to save Gohan. Not even the Dragon Balls could pull him back after all this time; the window had closed long ago. Was this some elaborate prank?

"You... what? That can't be right, Pilaf. Raditz has been gone for... forever. You sure it wasn't some lookalike?"

Pilaf shook his head vigorously, Shu and Mai nodding in terrified agreement.

"No mistake, Goku. He called himself Raditz, son of Bardock—knew all about you, Vegeta, the Saiyans. Turns out, after you... y'know, took him down, the Red Ribbon Army scavenged his body. Some guy called Gero experimented on him, fused him with android tech. He's not just alive—he's enhanced. Permanently locked in Super Saiyan form. Golden hair, glowing eyes, the works. And he's strong. Scary strong."

Goku staggered back a step, sinking onto the edge of a couch as the revelation sank in. Conflicting feelings warred inside him: shock, a spark of joy at the idea of family reunited, regret for the brother he'd never truly known. So many what-ifs flooded his mind—could they train together? Bond as Saiyans? Redeem the past like Vegeta had?

"Where is he now? What happened next?"

Pilaf swallowed hard, his beady eyes darting away.

"That's the bad part. He broke out of the pod, asked about you—called you Kakarot. When we mentioned Vegeta... he lost it. Said he'd rip everyone's heads off. Then he just... left. Flew off into space, warning us to evacuate the planet. Said when he comes back, it'll be a graveyard for you and everyone you care about."

The room fell silent, the weight of the threat pressing down like increased gravity. Goku's stomach twisted—not from hunger, but dread. A vengeful Raditz, amplified to Super Saiyan levels with android immortality? Unkillable, tireless, fueled by decades of resentment. It was Cell all over again, but personal. Familial. Vegeta broke the quiet with a snort.

"You see now, Kakarot? These clowns have surpassed even their role in resurrecting Frieza. If your weakling brother is now a perpetual Super Saiyan machine, he's a catastrophe waiting to explode. Our Ultra forms might handle him, but the collateral? The planet could crumble before we put him down. And if he's unreasonable... well, blood ties won't save us."

Goku nodded slowly, his usual cheer dimmed.

"Yeah... I get it. I just... need a minute to think this through."

He excused himself, slipping out to the balcony overlooking the sprawling Capsule Corp grounds. The fresh air did little to clear the fog in his mind. Killing Raditz the first time had haunted him—the desperate plea in his brother's eyes, the shared blood spilled. Doing it again? The thought churned his gut. Maybe there was a way to talk him down, to show him Earth's light like Vegeta had found. But then there was Gohan—his son, still scarred from that childhood kidnapping. How could he break this to him? Or Chi-Chi, who'd never forgive another family threat dragging them into chaos?

Goku sighed deeply, scratching his wild hair as he stared at the horizon. The sky stretched endless and blue, but somewhere beyond it lurked a golden storm named Raditz. Vengeance was coming, and for once, Goku wasn't sure if his fists—or his heart—were ready.