The last thing he remembered was the screech of tires, the blinding glare of headlights, and the sickening crunch of metal. Pain. Darkness. Then… nothing.
When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't on Earth. He wasn't even human.
The first thing he noticed was the oppressive heat. It clung to him like a second skin, suffocating and relentless. The air was thick with the stench of sulfur and decay, and the ground beneath him was cracked and barren, stretching endlessly in every direction. The sky above was a dull, sickly orange, with no sun in sight—just an endless expanse of gloom.
"Where… am I?" he tried to say, but the words came out as a guttural growl. His voice was deeper, rougher, and unfamiliar. Panic surged through him as he looked down at his hands. They were massive, calloused, and covered in dirt. His body felt wrong—too big, too powerful, too alien.
He stumbled to his feet, his legs wobbling under the weight of his new form. His reflection stared back at him from a shallow pool of murky water. Golden eyes, wild green hair, and a face that was both terrifying and strangely familiar.
"No… no, no, no!" he gasped, his voice trembling. "This can't be real. This can't be happening!"
But it was. He knew exactly who—or rather, *what*—he was. The face staring back at him was Broly, the Legendary Super Saiyan. The monster. The destroyer.
"Why… why me?" he whispered, sinking to his knees. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible. He had died. That much was clear. But instead of heaven, hell, or even nothingness, he had been reborn as one of the most feared beings in the *Dragon Ball* universe.
A low growl snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned his head sharply, his Saiyan instincts kicking in before his human mind could process what was happening. A massive, reptilian creature emerged from the shadows, its teeth bared and its eyes glowing with hunger.
He froze, his heart pounding in his chest. The creature lunged at him, its jaws snapping shut inches from his face. Instinct took over. He swung his arm wildly, his fist connecting with the creature's skull. The impact sent it flying, its body crumpling against a jagged rock.
He stared at his hand, trembling. He hadn't even tried to hit it that hard. The power coursing through him was terrifying—raw, untamed, and barely under his control.
"Get it together," he muttered to himself, forcing his breathing to slow. "You're Broly now. You're on Vampa. And if you want to survive, you'd better start acting like it."
He looked around, taking in his surroundings. The planet was a wasteland, devoid of life except for the occasional predator lurking in the shadows. In the distance, he spotted the wreckage of a spaceship—Paragus' ship. His stomach churned at the thought of the man who had once controlled Broly's life. But Paragus was nowhere to be seen. Had he died? Abandoned him? Either way, he was alone now.
"Alright," he said, clenching his fists. "If this is my life now, I'm not going to waste it. I'll survive. I'll get stronger. And one day… I'll leave this hellhole."
As he stood there, staring at the barren horizon, a spark of determination ignited within him. He didn't know how or why he had been reborn as Broly, but he wasn't going to let this second chance go to waste. He would master his power, control his rage, and carve out a new destiny for himself.
But first, he had to survive.