The days on Vampa were long and grueling, but Broly was beginning to find a rhythm. He woke with the first light of the planet's dim sun, trained until his muscles screamed, and scavenged for food and water until the shadows grew long. It was a harsh life, but it was one he was starting to master.
Yet, despite his growing strength, Broly couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. He had survived, yes, but survival wasn't enough. He needed purpose. He needed answers.
---
### **The Journal**
Broly returned to Paragus' journal often, pouring over its pages in the dim light of the wreckage. The entries were fragmented, filled with Paragus' anger and desperation, but they also contained glimpses of Broly's past.
"The boy's power is unlike anything I've ever seen," one entry read. "Even as a child, he was stronger than a fully grown Saiyan warrior. But his rage… it consumes him. If I can't control it, he'll destroy everything—including himself."
Broly frowned as he read the words. He didn't remember being a child, didn't remember Paragus or the life they had shared. But the journal painted a picture of a man consumed by fear and ambition, a man who saw Broly as both a weapon and a threat.
"Why did you bring me here?" Broly muttered, his voice low and rough. "What were you trying to prove?"
There were no answers in the journal, only more questions. But as Broly read, he began to piece together fragments of his past. He had been born on Planet Vegeta, the son of a low-class warrior. He had been exiled as a child, sent to Vampa to die. And he had survived—not because of Paragus, but in spite of him.
---
### **The Saiyan Instinct**
Broly's training was becoming more intense. He had unlocked his Super Saiyan form, but it was still raw and uncontrollable. Every time he transformed, he felt the rage bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to consume him. He knew he needed to master it, but he didn't know how.
One day, as he trained near the wreckage, he felt something shift within him. It was subtle at first—a flicker of energy, a spark of awareness. But as he focused on it, he realized what it was: his Saiyan instincts.
Saiyans were warriors, born and bred for battle. Their instincts were sharp, their reflexes honed by centuries of evolution. And Broly, with his immense power, was the pinnacle of that evolution.
He began to experiment, pushing his body in new ways. He practiced his ki control, focusing on the energy that flowed through him. He trained his reflexes, dodging and weaving through the jagged rocks that littered the landscape. And he tested his strength, lifting boulders and punching craters into the ground.
It wasn't easy. His power was still wild, still unpredictable. But with each passing day, he felt himself growing stronger, more in control.
---
### **The Vision**
One night, as Broly slept in the wreckage, he had a dream. It was vivid and intense, filled with images of a world he didn't recognize.
He saw a planet, lush and green, with towering trees and crystal-clear rivers. He saw a city, its streets filled with people—Saiyans, their tails swishing behind them as they walked. And he saw a man, tall and imposing, with a crown on his head and a cruel smile on his face.
"King Vegeta," Broly whispered, though he didn't know how he knew the name.
The dream shifted, and Broly saw himself—a child, small and scared, being dragged away by Paragus. He saw the fear in his own eyes, the confusion, the anger. And then he saw the explosion, the blinding light that consumed everything.
Broly woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked around, his eyes scanning the wreckage for any sign of danger. But there was nothing—just the dim light of the planet's sun filtering through the cracks in the metal.
"What was that?" Broly muttered, his voice trembling. "A memory? A vision?"
He didn't know. But as he sat there, his mind racing, he felt something stir within him—a flicker of recognition, a spark of understanding.
---
### **The First Step**
Broly knew he couldn't stay on Vampa forever. The planet was a prison, a barren wasteland that offered nothing but survival. He needed to leave, to find answers, to discover who he was and what he was meant to be.
But first, he needed to get stronger.
He stood, his muscles aching from the day's training, and walked to the edge of the wreckage. The planet stretched out before him, endless and unforgiving. But Broly didn't see a wasteland. He saw a challenge.
"I'm not going to die here," he said, his voice low and determined. "I'm going to survive. I'm going to get stronger. And I'm going to find out who I really am."
With that, he turned and walked back into the wreckage, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.