Dragon Ball: RNG Rebirth

Without warning, she threw her head back and roared, her power level spiking again. Her energy coalesced into a brilliant golden beam that shot towards me like a star going supernova. I dove to the side, the heat of the attack searing my armor and leaving a smoking trail in the floor where I'd been standing.

I rolled to a stop, my heart racing like it was trying to escape my chest. "What the fuck was that?" I panted, scrambling to my feet.

Zelle grinned, her teeth bared like a predator's. "That," she said, "is what you get for underestimating a Saiyan."

Her power level was now at 1,700, and she was charging another ki blast. I knew I couldn't dodge this one. So, I did the only thing I could think of: I threw myself into it.

The blast hit me like a sledgehammer made of pure energy. I felt myself go weightless as I was sent flying through the air, my body tumbling end over end. The world around me was a blur of lights and colors, the screams of the grunts lost in the cacophony of explosions. I could feel the energy burning through me, the pain intense and all-consuming.

When I finally came to a stop, I was lying in a crater, my armor scorched and smoking. The scouter beeped insistently, its voice tinny in my ear.

YOUR POWER LEVEL HAS DROPPED TO 800. STAND DOWN FOR THE SAKE OF THE MISSION.

But I couldn't. I had to get back up. I had to show her I wasn't just some expendable foot soldier.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed myself up, my muscles screaming in protest. "Is that all you've got?" I spat out, my voice raw and pained. "Because if you're holding back, you're insulting me."

Zelle's grin grew wider, if that was even possible. "You're tougher than you look," she said, and for the first time, there was a hint of respect in her eyes. "But let's see how you fare against this."

With that, she launched herself at me again, her power level spiking to 1,700. Her fists and feet flew in a blur of motion, each hit packing the punch of a meteor. But I was ready for her this time. I'd studied her moves, learned her patterns. 

The scouter beeped again, its voice urgent. "Use the Blitz Fang!"

I chuckled, the sound lost in the maelstrom of combat. "You think I'm just a pretty boy?" I sneered, channeling all my frustration and anger into my ki. "Let me show you what a real fighter looks like."

My eyes narrowed, and with a burst of speed that would put a Road Runner to shame, I vanished from her line of sight. She spun around, searching for me, her breath coming in heavy gasps. And then, like a ghost, I was behind her. My hands moved in a blur, each one leaving a trail of shimmering energy. The Blitz Fang technique sliced through the air, a symphony of deadly intent.

The first hit connected with the back of her neck, sending a jolt of pain down her spine. She stumbled, her movements slowing just a fraction of a second. That was all I needed. The next two strikes hit her in rapid succession—one to the kidney, the other to the ribs. She roared, the sound echoing through the training hall, but she didn't fall.

"Is that all you've got, Saiyan?" I taunted, my voice a cold whisper in the chaos. "Because I've seen street fighters in the slums of Buffalo with more style than you."

Her eyes flashed with anger, and she turned to face me, her power level now at a staggering 2,000. "You think you can beat me with tricks?" she growled. "I'll show you the true might of the Saiyan warrior!"

I smirked, feeling the anticipation build in my gut like a coiled spring. "Bring it," I said, my hand crackling with energy. "Because I've got more than a pretty face."

Her eyes narrowed, and she lunged at me, her fist blazing with a golden aura. But I was ready for her, my mind racing through every scenario the scouter had thrown at me. I knew she was fast, but I was faster. I waited until the last possible moment, letting her think she had the upper hand, and then I struck. My hand shot up, a vivid blue light flashing as my energy collided with hers.

Her fist smashed into the ground just inches from my face, sending up a spray of sparks. But she wasn't the only one with power to spare. I brought my other hand up in a blur, connecting with her jaw in a powerful uppercut. The impact was like hitting a brick wall—but it was her that stumbled back, not me.

Zelle's eyes went wide with shock, her hand flying to her chin. "What the...?" she spluttered, her voice thick with surprise and pain. "That...that hurt!"

"You fight like a bull in a china shop," I said, shaking my head. "No finesse, no strategy—just raw, unbridled power."

"And you fight like...like a sneaky little weasel," she spat, her power level dropping to 1,800 as she clutched her jaw. "But you're good. Real good."

The crowd of grunts had gone silent, watching us with a mix of awe and fear. They'd never seen a Saiyan taken down a peg, let alone by a lowly Zarbonian like me. But I wasn't done yet.

With a sly grin, I stepped closer to her, my hand still wrapped around her wrist. "Let me show you how a real tactician does it," I whispered. And with a twist of my wrist, I yanked her forward, using her own momentum to send her stumbling into me.

Her body collided with mine, and for a moment, we were a tangle of limbs and armor. But I was in control. My other hand shot out, grabbing her shoulder, and with a flick of my hips, I spun us around. She ended up on the floor, her face a mask of shock and disbelief.

"You're right, Zelle," I said, standing over her. "Saiyans are all about power. But what good is power if you don't know how to use it?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she pushed herself to her feet, her power level spiking again. "You think you're so clever," she snarled. "But you're just playing games."

"Oh, I'm playing to win," I assured her, a cold smile crossing my lips. "And if that means playing dirty, then so be it."

The training hall was now a battleground, our grunts' cheers and jeers the only sounds piercing the silence. Zelle's eyes gleamed with a fierce light, and she lunged at me again. But this time, she was more cautious. She knew she couldn't underestimate me.

The scouter on my forehead beeped, its calm voice a stark contrast to the frenzied battle around us.

ENEMY POWER LEVEL RISING. CONSERVE ENERGY FOR THE FINAL STRIKE.

I dodged her blows, my heart racing, my muscles singing with the thrill of the fight. She was a force of nature, but I was the storm she couldn't predict.

Zelle's movements grew more calculated, her fists and feet moving in precise patterns that spoke of her Saiyan heritage. But she was still too predictable. I saw the opening before she did, a brief flicker in her eyes that gave away her intention.

With a burst of speed that left her staggering, I closed the distance between us. My hand shot out, aiming for the same spot on her ribs I'd hit earlier. This time, I didn't hold back. I put every ounce of my strength, every bit of my anger and determination into the blow.

The sound was like a gunshot—loud and final. She crumpled to the ground, her power level plummeting to a mere 1,000.

"You can't win with brute force alone," I panted, standing over her. "It's about timing, precision, and knowing when to strike."

Her eyes glared up at me, a mix of anger and something else—respect, perhaps? But she wasn't going to admit it, not yet. "You're not so tough," she said, her voice strained.

"Oh, I think I've proven otherwise," I quipped, planting my boot firmly on her stomach. The force of the kick sent her flying back, her body sliding across the floor before coming to a painful stop. She gasped for air, her hand clutching her midsection. The grunts watched in shock, their cheers turning to gasps.

Zelle's power level dropped to 800, and she glared at me with a mix of disbelief and respect. "You...you're just a grunt," she managed to get out, her voice strained.

"And so are you" I say with a smirk. "But that doesn't mean we can't spar like champions."

Her eyes narrow, but she nods. "Fine," she says, her voice thick with frustration. "But don't think you've won. This isn't over."

"Oh, it's not over," I agree, a cocky grin spreading across my face. "But for now,we'll just say I'm the winner."

The grunts slowly disperse, their whispers following us like a shadow as we make our way back to the living quarters. My room is small, with two narrow bunks crammed against opposite walls and a single locker that I share with Gardon. As I strip off my armor and toss it into the locker, Zelle lingers in the doorway, her expression unreadable.

"Cody," she says, her voice low and almost...shy. "Can I...sleep in your bunk tonight?".