Dragon Ball Z: The Beast Within

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Currently on CH13

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Enjoy you sexy bastards.

Update Schedule: Monday and Friday.

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[Escarot POV.]

Space travel was… not what I had expected.

I mean, sure, I hadn't exactly known what to expect, but I thought space travel would be cooler than this. Movies certainly made it look cooler.

But the truth was, it wasn't.

At first, yeah, it had been very exciting. Leaving Planet Vegeta, watching the red skies shrink behind me, shooting off into the vast expanse of space; it felt like something straight out of a sci-fi dream.

But then?

Then the novelty wore off.

Because here's the thing most people, including me, tend to forget:

Space is empty.

Like, really empty.

No planets flying by, no sights to admire, nothing. Just an endless black void with the occasional distant star blinking in the distance.

And I was going to be stuck in this tiny, cramped metal ball for the next forty days.

Yeah.

This was going to suck.

At first, I tried to keep myself entertained. I counted the stars. I checked the pod's navigation system. I even experimented with shifting my tail into different positions to see if I could get comfortable. Spoiler: I couldn't.

Saiyan pods weren't built for comfort. They were coffins with engines; just enough room to sit, barely enough space to stretch, and absolutely no thought given to long-term travel. There was a small nutrient supply connected to the pod, so I wasn't going to starve, but beyond that?

Nothing.

No training equipment, no communication channels, nothing.

If I had been traveling with Okara and Garlik, maybe we could have at least talked to pass the time, but Saiyan pods weren't built for group travel. We had each been launched separately, meaning I was alone.

I couldn't even use my scouter to talk to them—the current model didn't have long-range communication. Guess that feature was reserved for the elite. Or maybe they hadn't quite figured out how to do that just yet.

So, here I was, alone, in a tiny pod, in the middle of nothing.

For forty days.

I sighed, shifting slightly. The pod's seat wasn't exactly made for long-term sitting. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't comfortable either. Just stiff enough to be annoying.

I opened up the pod's system again, checking my estimated time of arrival.

[39 days, 12 hours, 43 minutes remaining.]

Great.

I groaned, leaning my head back against the seat.

What the hell was I supposed to do for over a month?

"Would it kill them to install a TV inside these things?" I muttered, letting my mind wander.

Things were looking up for me. Despite the boring voyage I had been forced to endure, I was making big strides when it came to ensuring my survival. Now I just needed to keep this up, and when the time came, I wouldn't be another number to add to Frieza's Death Toll.

My plans for Namek were simple.

Befriend the Namekians.

Get some actual training.

Have my hidden potential unlocked.

And use the Dragon Balls to wish for the best pillow in the universe.

A perfectly reasonable list.

I had five years to work with before this mission would be considered a failure; five years where no one would be bothering me.

Five years to prepare.

I wasn't setting my goals as high as "defeat Frieza" by then… but I wasn't not setting my goals on that either.

Right now, my main priority was survival.

Everything else? A welcomed bonus.

I tapped my fingers against my knee, thinking.

Namek was step one, but after that…?

If I really wanted to stack the deck in my favor, Yardrat was the next logical stop.

If they had the same Instant Transmission technique as in the anime, which I hope they did, that would be the ultimate escape card. A way to get out of any situation, no matter how bad.

Frieza shows up? Poof. Gone.

Planet about to explode? Poof. I'm somewhere safe.

Someone stronger than me tries to kill me? Poof. Try again later, asshole.

Yeah. That move alone could save my life.

I leaned my head back with a smirk.

First, Namek.

Then, Yardrat.

And if I played this right?

I might just live long enough to actually win.

Talking about survival.

I should probably learn how to cook.

If there was one universal truth about Beerus and Whis, it was that their biggest weakness wasn't strength, wasn't power—it was food.

The right meal could turn a planet from dust to a vacation spot in their eyes. A good enough dish could make Beerus ignore a slight, and Whis? He'd do just about anything for a gourmet experience.

It wouldn't hurt to have that kind of leverage.

If I ever needed to bargain, to stall, to buy myself time or favor, knowing how to whip up something mind-blowingly good could be just as powerful as any technique I learned.

I exhaled through my nose.

Ki mastery, potential unlocking, Instant Transmission, and now cooking lessons.

This was turning into one hell of a to-do list.

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[Third Person POV.]

[Cooler.]

Cooler's ship descended upon Planet Vegeta, its sleek, silver frame cutting through the thick, red skies like a blade. The landing was smooth, precise—everything he expected from his personal fleet.

As the ship doors hissed open, Cooler stepped forward, his armored feet touching the cracked, scorched ground of the Saiyan homeworld. He barely spared a glance at the primitive architecture of their capital. Brutalist structures, worn-down training arenas, the scent of blood and sweat lingering in the air.

Saiyans were uncivilized brutes, but they had their uses.

And that's why he was here.

The moment he exited, King Vegeta was already waiting for him at the base of the landing platform.

The so-called King of the Saiyans stood tall, arms crossed, his expression carefully neutral. But Cooler wasn't fooled. He could see the tension in the man's jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders. The fear.

Amusing.

Cooler let the silence hang, watching as King Vegeta forced himself to speak first.

"Lord Cooler," the Saiyan king greeted, voice even but laced with barely restrained unease. "To what do we owe the honor of your visit?"

Cooler smirked. Honor. That was rich.

"I am here for information," Cooler stated plainly, his tail flicking behind him. "I want access to your warrior database. I am looking to recruit."

King Vegeta's fingers twitched, his lips pressing into a thin line. Cooler didn't miss it.

"Recruit?" the king echoed. "For what purpose?"

Cooler's smirk didn't falter. "For my own purposes."

King Vegeta didn't press further, which was smart. Instead, he turned to one of the nearby Saiyan scientists and gave a sharp nod. The scientist; a scrawny thing compared to the warriors around him, quickly scrambled to a nearby terminal, pulling up the files Cooler requested.

A moment later, the scientist handed him a data pad. "This contains all the registered warriors, their power levels, and assignments."

Cooler took the device without a word, scrolling through the information with a bored expression.

Most of it was exactly what he expected. Low-class grunts, mid-class nobodies, a handful of high-class warriors who barely registered as interesting.

Then something caught his eye.

A mission personally assigned by Lord Beerus?

Cooler's smirk widened. Now, this was interesting.

He tapped the file, bringing up the details.

Mission: Retrieve the Best Pillow in the Universe for Lord Beerus.

Cooler actually chuckled. Oh, this was priceless.

The mighty Saiyan race; famous for its brutality, its pride, its so-called warrior spirit; had been reduced to running errands for the Destroyer's comfort.

Poetic.

Even more interesting was the fact that two separate squads had been assigned to this task.

One was led by a high-class warrior with a power level of 8109; respectable by Saiyan standards, pathetic in the grand scheme of things. The squad was large, around twenty warriors. A reasonable force.

The other squad, however?

Cooler's amusement grew.

Three members.

One of them was an engineer.

And their leader?

A high-class warrior named Escarot.

Power level 2892.

Cooler hummed, tapping his chin.

King Vegeta had sent one squad fully prepared, with veteran warriors.

And the other? Practically a death sentence.

How… intriguing.

Cooler's tail flicked lazily as he studied the data before him, his smirk never wavering. Then, with a casual tone, he spoke.

"How curious."

King Vegeta stiffened slightly. "What is?"

Cooler didn't look up from the data pad. "Two squads assigned to this mission… yet one is fully equipped with trained warriors, better ships, and better equipment, and the other?" His red eyes gleamed with amusement. "A high class child fresh out of the pod, an engineer, and a low-class warrior without training. Hardly a fair comparison, wouldn't you say?"

He tilted his head slightly, amused by the way King Vegeta's fingers twitched.

"Tell me, King Vegeta," Cooler continued, voice smooth. "Why send one squad well-equipped for this task, and the other so wholly unprepared? It almost seems as if you want the latter to fail."

King Vegeta stiffened. Just slightly. Barely noticeable to anyone lesser than Cooler.

But Cooler noticed everything.

The king schooled his expression quickly. "Escarot is a high-class warrior. His power level speaks for itself."

Cooler chuckled. "Oh, certainly. 2892 is quite the number for one so young. But tell me, King Vegeta; why send him as a captain on his first mission, with no real squad to support him? Normally, a high-class warrior's first assignment is under the supervision of a veteran, is it not?"

King Vegeta's lip curled slightly, but he didn't immediately respond.

Cooler tilted his head. "It's almost as if… you want him to fail."

A moment of silence stretched between them.

Cooler's smirk deepened as the realization clicked into place.

This wasn't just negligence.

It was spite.

Escarot had wounded King Vegeta's pride in some way, and the king; too weak to do anything about it directly; had lashed out in the only way he could. By throwing the kid into a rigged game and ensuring he had no chance of success.

But here was the real question—

If this child had truly angered King Vegeta… why wasn't he dead?

Why not have him executed? Why not banish him to some wasteland planet, never to be heard from again?

That would be the Saiyan way.

Instead, he was still alive. Still wearing his armor. Still assigned to missions as a high-class warrior.

Which meant one thing.

Escarot had earned the interest of someone above King Vegeta's authority.

And there were very few beings in this universe who fit that description.

Cooler knew for a fact that his father, Cold, hadn't been to Planet Vegeta in months.

And Frieza? His little brother barely even acknowledged the Saiyans' existence. They were foot soldiers to him, nothing more. Hardly worth his personal attention.

Which left one possibility.

Lord Beerus.

Cooler's smirk widened.

Now that… that is very interesting.

It would certainly explain why he had been assigned to this mission, without any experience. 

Cooler could only assume Lord Beerus himself had asked for Escarot to partake in this assignment.

Cooler let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

"How pathetic." His voice dripped with amusement, yet his crimson eyes gleamed with something far sharper, disgust. "You let a child bruise your ego, and this is how you handle it? Sending him off to die because you can't handle the insult?"

King Vegeta's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. His pride demanded he lash out, but his fear kept him in check.

Cooler stepped closer, lowering the data pad and looking down at the Saiyan king with a smirk. "But don't worry," he continued smoothly. "Assuming he survives your little tantrum, I'll make sure he gets put to proper use."

He turned slightly, his tail flicking behind him. "Once the boy returns, he is to report to my sector for recruitment."

King Vegeta's scowl deepened, but he gave a slow nod. "As you command… Lord Cooler."

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[Third Person POV.]

[Grand Elder Guru.]

The Grand Elder's eyes slowly opened.

The air inside his dwelling was still, quiet, yet something unseen stirred. A shift. A ripple across the vast currents of fate.

He had seen it.

A vision.

It wasn't often that he could see things clearly, fate was a tricky thing to read. But he had seen something.

Someone; no, three someones—were coming to Namek.

Across the room, Nail, his strongest, ever watchful son, immediately took notice of the change in his face. His sharp gaze flickered toward the Elder, his stance subtly shifting into alertness.

"Is something wrong, Grand Elder?" Nail asked, his voice calm but firm.

The Grand Elder exhaled slowly, his ancient body rising and falling with measured breath. "Not necessarily," he murmured, his voice deep and steady.

Nail's brows furrowed slightly. That wasn't a no.

The Grand Elder closed his eyes again, reaching deeper into the lingering echoes of his vision. Three presences, unfamiliar yet not hostile, moving toward Namek. Their destinies, though still uncertain, were entwined with the future of his people.

Nail remained silent, waiting. His patience was a testament to his discipline, but his concern was evident.

"They are unknown to us," the Elder finally said, his voice carrying the weight of foresight. "But they do not come as enemies."

Nail's shoulders relaxed just slightly. "Then why are they coming?"

The Grand Elder's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "Because they need our help… as much as we need theirs."

Nail remained tense, his arms crossed over his chest. "Are you certain, Grand Elder? If they are unknown to us, we cannot be sure of their intentions."

The Grand Elder let out a low, patient hum. "I am certain," he reassured, his voice calm and unwavering. "These three pose no threat to us, Nail."

Nail's gaze didn't waver, but there was still hesitation in his posture. His duty was to protect Namek, to ensure that no outsider brought harm to their people.

That was his role as: The Warrior.

The Grand Elder chuckled softly. "If it eases your worries, my child, I will tell you this—" He opened his wise, ancient eyes, locking them onto Nail with quiet amusement. "You are far stronger than all three of them."

Nail blinked. For a moment, the tension in his body eased as he processed that statement. Then, slowly, his stance relaxed, though his expression remained serious.

"If that is the case," Nail finally said, exhaling, "then I will not be concerned. But I will still watch them closely."

The Grand Elder's smile widened. "Of course, my child."