Three Years Later

They were still talking.

Tien Shinhan, who had been lying unconscious for a long time on the sofa across from them, finally twitched his eyelids a few times. He let out a low groan and slowly opened all three eyes, looking around in confusion.

"Brother Tian! Brother Tian! You're finally awake!" Chiaotzu let out a long sigh of relief, hurried over, and called out with concern.

"My head feels so heavy... like it's full of lead..." Tien struggled to sit up and rubbed his still-aching temples. He looked at Master Roshi, who was pretending to admire the scenery, and asked with a helpless, puzzled tone, "Master Roshi, what exactly did you spray me with earlier? That stuff was way too strong."

"Heh heh, it's fine, it's fine. Just some good stuff to help you sleep and calm your nerves. It's harmless to your body. It's fine, it's fine..." Master Roshi smiled sheepishly and rubbed his hands together.

"Speaking of which, where's King Piccolo?" Tien shook his head, trying to piece together what he'd heard before passing out and while half-conscious. He asked in confusion, "My head was a little foggy earlier, so I couldn't make much sense of what I heard... Chiaotzu seemed to tell me... Broly defeated King Piccolo?"

As he spoke, all three of Tien's eyes turned toward Broly, full of disbelief.

"That's right, Brother Tian! It's absolutely true! Broly defeated him!" Chiaotzu nodded emphatically, his little face full of conviction.

Seeing a chance to show off, Master Roshi immediately perked up. He cleared his throat and, once again gesticulating wildly and spitting as he spoke, recounted how Broly had heroically defeated King Piccolo—making the tale even more exaggerated and legendary than before.

Tien listened with his third eye opened wide and his mouth slightly agape, the astonishment on his face growing more intense by the second.

"Heh heh, actually, I never told you all this," Master Roshi said at last, puffing out his chest proudly. He stroked his beard and struck the pose of a worldly sage before announcing, "Broly is the most powerful and best-hidden senior disciple of the Turtle School! A mighty warrior operating behind the scenes! The trump card I, Master Roshi, secretly trained!"

Broly listened from the side and simply grinned before continuing to munch on his apple. He had no intention of exposing Master Roshi's obvious boasting.

After all, in Broly's simple mind, the old man could be a bit unreliable at times, but he really had treated him well.

He gave him food and a place to stay, so Broly didn't mind letting him call him his senior disciple.

"Broly... so... he's really that strong?" Tien exclaimed in amazement. His gaze toward Broly changed completely, shifting from casual indifference to intense curiosity and a hint of indescribable fighting spirit.

"Besides, Tien, there's something else you don't know," Krillin excitedly added from behind them. "Goku's gone to train at the Lookout with Kami! He left full of confidence, saying he'd definitely surpass Broly once he finished training!"

"Kami?" Tien was stunned again, feeling overwhelmed by all the information and unable to process it for a moment.

"Alright, you youngsters should all train hard!" Master Roshi looked at these promising young disciples and grinned encouragingly. "You've got these three years to improve as much as you can. Then, at the next World Martial Arts Tournament, you can settle things in the ring! Now that'll be exciting!"

"Broly, you've gotten so strong!" Krillin lightly jabbed Broly's hard ribs with his elbow and asked with a grin, "You'll enter the next World Martial Arts Tournament, right? Let everyone see what you can really do!"

"I'm not entering." Broly didn't even stop to think. He remained as lazy as ever and rejected the idea without hesitation.

"Huh? You're not entering?" Yamcha was startled at first, then a trace of relief flickered across his face.

Maybe it was for the best if Broly didn't enter...

I don't think I could surpass this monster in just three years.

If Broly sat out, maybe I'd have a chance at a better finish in the tournament.

"Right, I'm not entering." Broly shook his head, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I'm not interested in fighting or competing at all. I'd rather use that time to eat a few more good meals and get some decent sleep."

Master Roshi listened from the side and quietly wiped away some nonexistent sweat from his forehead.

You say you're not interested in fighting...

When you fought King Piccolo, your movements were clean and decisive, and you didn't look reluctant at all. If anything, you seemed... relaxed and casual?

That kid was impossible to read!

While the atmosphere at Master Roshi's House was light and everyone chatted about the future,

deep in a remote, uninhabited primeval forest somewhere on Earth,

towering ancient trees rose overhead, vines coiled around them, and the dim air carried the scent of damp soil and plants.

A short, green figure sat cross-legged on a moss-covered boulder, eyes tightly closed.

He had almost the exact same face as King Piccolo, only younger and more boyish.

He was the newly reborn Piccolo!

Suddenly, Piccolo's eyes snapped open. A bone-deep hatred blazed in his crimson eyes, shining as if it were a tangible thing!

Piccolo clenched his teeth, his small fists tightening with a crackle.

"Broly!!!" Little Piccolo's voice was low and hoarse, brimming with boundless venom and murderous intent. It echoed through the silent depths of the forest. "You killed my father! You destroyed his ambitions! I, Piccolo, swear here and now that I'll make you pay for this blood feud! I'll grow stronger than you! Then, in front of everyone, I'll tear you to pieces with my own hands!!"

Age 756.

Time flew by, and three years slipped quietly past amid calm days and everyone's separate training.

The 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament opened as scheduled during this cool, rainy season.

For Broly, those three years had felt like an endless repetition of happy cycles: eat until full, sleep until rested.

Broly had also picked up a new pastime during those three years.

That was—video games!

Broly hadn't deliberately pursued greater strength, but the blood of the Legendary Super Saiyan in his body had continued to surge and grow naturally with each day of rest, like a deep current beneath still water.

Broly could feel that his strength had increased considerably. It was a powerful, profound growth that came from the very source of his life.

As for exactly how much stronger he'd gotten, his brain—which wasn't very good with numbers—couldn't say.

He just felt a whole lot stronger than before!

It was like a little stream becoming a mighty river: still calm on the surface, but holding even more terrifying power beneath.

On the day the tournament began,

the sky was overcast, as if covered by a veil of gray gauze. A steady drizzle fell silently, soaking the earth and bringing a hint of chill. It also lent the ancient buildings of the Martial Arts Temple an even more solemn air.