"Okay, now you can grant my wish." Renkon greeted Shenron, his voice steady despite standing before the massive, serpentine dragon that coiled through the darkened sky.
"Very well." Red flames flickered in Shenron's ancient eyes, the eternal dragon's voice resonating with power that seemed to vibrate the air itself.
"Huh!"
In the blink of an eye, Renkon disappeared along with his spaceship, leaving only disturbed dust where they had stood moments before. The seven Dragon Balls rose high into the air, pulsing with golden light before scattering across Earth's surface once more.
The God's Temple
High above the world, floating in celestial isolation, Kami stood at the edge of his lookout, deep lines of concern etched across his green Namekian face. His wizened hands gripped his wooden staff tightly as he frowned in contemplation.
Shenron had been summoned, and as the dragon's creator, he naturally knew it. The cosmic connection between them allowed him to sense the wish that had been made—a transportation wish to another planet. What troubled him was the identity of the wisher.
"Korin, can you also sense this person's existence?" Kami asked telepathically, reaching out to the immortal cat guardian residing in the tower below.
In the Korin Tower, the white feline sage's whiskers twitched with annoyance. "Barely... my Senzu Beans are missing... I'm afraid he took them," Korin replied, his usually laid-back demeanour showing rare signs of agitation as he inspected the empty jar where his precious healing beans had been stored.
"What? Does he even know about the Senzu Beans?" Kami was genuinely surprised. Few beyond Earth's strongest warriors even knew of their existence, let alone their healing properties.
"Anyway, it seems that this person is wishing no harm to Earth at the moment," Korin said casually, settling back onto his haunches and stroking his whiskers. "Although he's an alien... he didn't harm anyone on his visit here to Earth, and he even got along very well with Brief's family."
"So, I can rest assured," Kami nodded slightly and responded, his ancient features relaxing somewhat. "It's just that what made me a little uneasy is that Shenron said this person's strength has far surpassed him."
"What? Doesn't that mean that he's surpassed you too?" Korin was startled, his tail standing straight up before he calmed himself. "Well, he managed to take my Senzu Beans without me noticing. It shows his strength is extraordinary."
"There are so many alien visitors recently..." Kami sighed, his gaze turning toward the vast expanse of stars visible from his lookout. "First it was him, and then two more spaceships descended on Earth one after another. One of them carried a child about three years old. His clothes were similar to that of the person named Renkon, probably from the same planet. It's currently located near Mount Paozu. Another spaceship broke down on a small island to the east. This person is a wholesome justice..."
"Paozu? Isn't that where one of the turtle hermit's apprentices' lives?" Korin was taken aback, his memory quickly connecting the dots.
"The person you're talking about is called Son Gohan, right? He's more than just a normal person," Kami nodded thoughtfully. "We can arrange for him to meet that child by chance. It may be helpful to provide a good environment for that child to develop." The Guardian of Earth sighed, his mind already calculating the possibilities that such an arrangement might bring.
Planet Cereal
"Huh!"
Renkon and his spherical spaceship materialized out of thin air, the displacement of atmosphere creating a small shockwave across the barren prairie where they appeared. The Saiyan warrior's boots touched down on alien soil as his sharp eyes immediately began scanning his surroundings.
The surface of this planet was remarkably like Earth—blue sky, breathable atmosphere, and gravity that felt only slightly heavier than what he'd grown accustomed to. Currently, Renkon found himself standing in a vast, empty grassland that stretched toward distant mountains on the horizon.
There was no one nearby. Let alone people, even monsters or wildlife seemed scarce in this region. The wind whispered through the tall, reddish grass, carrying the scent of unfamiliar vegetation.
Renkon, seeing nothing of immediate interest, reached into his armour and took out the "iPad" device that Dr. Brief had given him. Its sleek design contrasted with the rugged nature of his battle-worn armour. He pressed the button on top with a deliberate motion.
Suddenly, two golden light spots appeared on the screen, pulsing rhythmically. Around these points of light, a detailed topographical map of the surrounding area automatically uploaded, complete with terrain features and distance calculations.
"This thing is certainly advanced," Renkon muttered to himself, impressed despite his usual stoicism. "As expected of Dr. Brief."
The two dragon balls weren't too far apart according to the device. Renkon knew from his research that one of the dragon balls was likely in Monaito's house—the last surviving Namekian on this planet, if his intelligence was correct.
Whoosh!
Without further hesitation, Renkon launched himself skyward, his aura flaring around him as he flew quickly in the direction of the nearest Dragon Ball. The landscape blurred beneath him, a tapestry of colours as he pushed his speed to a comfortable cruising velocity.
Ten minutes later, Renkon arrived at an endless mountain range of jagged, weathered peaks. Following the increasingly urgent pulsing of the golden dot on his tracker, he successfully located the first Dragon Ball nestled in the cracks of some ancient rocks, its orange surface gleaming with inner light, two stars visible within its crystalline depths.
Renkon carefully took the dragon ball, examining it briefly before securing it in a specially designed pouch at his waist. Without wasting a moment, he launched himself skyward again, flying rapidly in the direction of the second signal.
Whoosh!
Renkon drew a graceful arc across the darkening sky, his aura leaving a momentary trail of energy as he pushed his speed to its maximum. The distance of 10,000 kilometres meant nothing to a warrior of his calibre—he crossed it in merely a second, the wind screaming past his ears as he hurtled toward his destination.
In a certain mountainous area, nestled against the side of a particularly verdant hill, stood a modest dwelling. This was Monaito's home, deliberately positioned away from the nearest town. Since the devastation that had befallen Planet Cereal, only Monaito and his young ward Granolah remained in this house.
Granolah's age wasn't much different from Prince Vegeta's; he was about five or six years old, with distinctive red markings around his eyes that identified him as one of the last Cerealians. The boy's slender frame belied the determination that burned within him.
Just a year before, Granolah, who was only four years old, had witnessed with his own eyes the systematic destruction of his planet by the Saiyan Army. Those horrific scenes were permanently carved into his memory, leaving him plagued by nightmares, especially of those giant black ape forms—Oozaru—that he had seen destroying buildings and crushing his people beneath massive feet.
At this time, Granolah was practicing outside the small house, throwing punches and kicks at an imaginary opponent. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool mountain air, his determination evident in every movement.
Monaito, an elderly Namekian with wrinkled green skin and wise eyes, sat at the doorway of his humble home, silently watching Granolah's practice with a mixture of pride and concern. His antennae twitched occasionally as he sensed the boy's growing power.
"Grandpa, Frieza and the Saiyan Army—I will repay them double one day," Granolah declared through gritted teeth, his small fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles whitened. His voice carried a bitterness that no child his age should possess.
"Boy, hatred will only disorient you," Monaito sighed, his ancient eyes reflecting centuries of wisdom and the pain of witnessing too many cycles of violence.
"No, without hatred, I will never have the motivation to practice!" Granolah retorted, his young face contorting with emotion. "I will surpass the Saiyans, and I will surpass Frieza! I will make them pay the price of my people's blood." To emphasize his point, he hammered his small fist against a nearby boulder, causing small cracks to spread from the impact point—a display of strength unusual for a Cerealian child his age.
Above the clouds, hidden from view, Renkon floated silently in the air, his keen Saiyan senses allowing him to observe and hear the exchange between Monaito and Granolah below. The hatred filling the little boy's heart was concerning, though not surprising.
When you consider it objectively, Renkon thought, this child witnessed the complete annihilation of his race. According to the intelligence he'd gathered, Granolah was likely the only Cerealian left alive on the entire planet. It would be unrealistic to expect him not to harbor intense hatred for those responsible for such destruction.
"Damn the Saiyans! And damn Frieza!" Granolah continued his declaration, waving his small fists at the sky, unaware of the Saiyan warrior hovering above.
Monaito shook his head and sighed deeply, his aged features softening with compassion. He truly felt for the little boy—it wasn't fair for someone so young to carry such a burden of trauma and loss. But, as the Namekian had lived long enough to know, how often is life fair to anyone in this vast, often cruel universe?
"Hm?"
At this moment, Monaito's antennae twitched sharply, and he seemed to sense something unexpected. His head snapped upward, eyes scanning the sky with sudden alertness.
Whoosh!
As if responding to being detected, Renkon descended from the sky in one fluid motion, landing gracefully a short distance from the pair. His Saiyan armor gleamed in the planet's sunlight, the royal emblem visible on his chest plate, and his tail—a definitive mark of his Saiyan heritage—was wrapped securely around his waist.
"What? A Saiyan?!" Granolah's eyes widened in recognition and fear. He could identify Renkon's uniform briefly, having seen similar armor worn by the warriors who had destroyed his world.
"A Saiyan?" Monaito also tensed visibly, his tall frame straightening as he hurriedly moved to shield Granolah behind him. Though a Namekian with some fighting capability, he knew he was no match for a full-fledged Saiyan warrior.
Granolah, despite his earlier bold declarations, was momentarily stunned into silence. Although he had vowed revenge and death to all Saiyans and Frieza, he was still just a child, and it was entirely normal for fear to overtake him when faced with a real threat. Moreover, the Cerealians had never been a warrior race—they were technologically advanced but not naturally militant.
"Saiyan, what are you doing here?" Monaito asked vigilantly, his voice steady despite his apprehension. His hand moved subtly, ready to attempt whatever defense he could muster if the intruder attacked.
Woom!!
Without warning, at the tip of Renkon's extended index finger, a light blue energy spot suddenly manifested—a concentrated point of ki that hummed with destructive potential.
"You... what are you planning to do?" Monaito's heart sank as he braced himself, pushing Granolah further behind him. The young boy's breath came in short, terrified gasps.
As a Namekian, Monaito could clearly sense the terrifying destructive power concentrated in that small point of light. It was enough to vaporize not just them, but possibly the entire surrounding area. His mind raced with confusion and dread. How could there be such a powerful Saiyan? This warrior's power level far exceeded that of the Saiyans who had come before during the planet's destruction!