The days blurred together on Vampa. Time had no meaning here, only the endless cycle of survival. Broly—no, *he*—still struggled to think of himself by that name. It felt foreign, like a mask he hadn't chosen to wear. But as the days turned into weeks, he began to accept it. He was Broly now, and Broly had to survive.
The planet was merciless. The air was thin, the ground was cracked and dry, and the only sources of water were the occasional pools of murky liquid that tasted like metal. Food was even harder to come by. The few creatures that roamed the wasteland were fast, vicious, and always hungry. Broly had learned the hard way that even the smallest of them could be deadly.
His first real meal had come at a cost. A lizard-like creature, no larger than a dog, had attacked him while he was scavenging near the wreckage of Paragus' ship. It moved like lightning, its claws slicing through the air with deadly precision. Broly had barely managed to dodge, his body moving on instinct. When the creature lunged again, he reacted without thinking, his fist slamming into its side with enough force to shatter bone.
The creature died instantly, its body crumpling to the ground. Broly stared at it, his chest heaving, his hands trembling. He hadn't meant to kill it. He hadn't even meant to hit it that hard. But as the smell of blood filled the air, something primal stirred within him. His stomach growled, and before he could stop himself, he was tearing into the creature's flesh with his teeth.
It was raw, bloody, and disgusting, but it was food. And for the first time since he had arrived on this hellish planet, he didn't feel like he was starving.
---
### **The Wreckage**
The wreckage of Paragus' ship became his sanctuary. It was a crumbling, rusted shell of metal, but it offered some semblance of shelter from the planet's relentless heat and the predators that roamed the wasteland. Broly spent hours exploring the ship, searching for anything that could help him survive.
He found little of use—a few scraps of cloth, a broken communicator, and a handful of tools that were too rusted to be of any real use. But he also found something else: a journal. It was battered and water-stained, its pages filled with Paragus' cramped, hurried handwriting.
Broly hesitated before opening it. He didn't want to think about Paragus, the man who had once controlled Broly's life. But curiosity got the better of him, and he began to read.
The entries were sparse, mostly notes about the ship's systems and the planet's harsh conditions. But there were also fragments of Paragus' thoughts—his anger at King Vegeta, his determination to survive, and his plans for Broly.
"The boy is strong," one entry read. "Stronger than any Saiyan I've ever seen. But he's dangerous. Unstable. If I can't control him, he'll destroy us both."
Broly closed the journal, his hands trembling. He didn't want to be that person—a weapon, a monster. But as he sat there, surrounded by the wreckage of a life he barely remembered, he couldn't help but wonder if that was all he was destined to be.
---
### **Training**
Broly knew he couldn't stay in the wreckage forever. If he wanted to survive, he needed to get stronger. And so, he began to train.
At first, it was simple things—running, lifting rocks, practicing his punches and kicks. But as the days passed, he began to push himself harder. He climbed the jagged cliffs that surrounded the wreckage, his muscles burning with the effort. He practiced his ki control, focusing on the energy that simmered beneath his skin.
It wasn't easy. His power was wild, unpredictable, and often overwhelming. There were times when he lost control, his rage boiling over and unleashing bursts of energy that left craters in the ground. But each time, he forced himself to calm down, to focus, to try again.
And slowly, he began to improve.
---
### **The First Transformation**
It happened during a fight with one of the planet's larger predators—a massive, six-legged beast with armored scales and teeth like daggers. Broly had been hunting it for days, tracking its movements and waiting for the right moment to strike.
When the moment came, he wasn't ready.
The beast was faster than he expected, its claws slicing through the air with terrifying speed. Broly dodged and weaved, his body moving on instinct, but he couldn't land a hit. The creature's scales were too thick, its movements too unpredictable.
And then, it happened.
The beast lunged at him, its jaws snapping shut inches from his face. Broly felt something inside him snap—a dam breaking, a flood of power surging through his veins. His vision turned green, his body trembling with energy. And then, with a roar that shook the ground, he transformed.
His hair turned golden, his muscles bulged, and his power exploded outward in a shockwave that sent the beast flying. Broly didn't think, didn't hesitate. He charged at the creature, his fists slamming into its body with enough force to crack its armor. The beast roared in pain, but Broly didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
When it was over, the beast was dead, its body broken and lifeless. Broly stood over it, his chest heaving, his body trembling with exhaustion. He looked down at his hands, still glowing with energy, and felt a surge of fear.
What had he become?
---
### **The Spark of Hope**
As the days turned into weeks, Broly began to change. He wasn't the same man who had woken up on this planet, terrified and alone. He was stronger now, both physically and mentally. He had survived the planet's harsh conditions, faced its deadliest predators, and even unlocked a fraction of his true power.
But he knew he couldn't stay here forever. Somewhere out there, beyond the barren wasteland of Vampa, was a universe full of possibilities. And Broly was determined to see it.