Several months had passed since everyone had gone to King of Worlds Planet to train.
Outside Earth.
Frieza Force Base No. 79, medical wing.
Pale green nutrient fluid drained slowly from the healing pod. The moment its door slid open, a cloud of icy white mist billowed out.
Vegeta stepped barefoot from the pod. His lean, muscular body was covered in old and new scars, but the most glaring was the still-healing ring of scar tissue at the base of his severed tail.
He lowered his gaze to it, his eyes so dark they seemed to bleed.
"A Low-Class Warrior. A worthless piece of trash sent to die on some remote planet. He cut off my tail."
"I, Vegeta, have never known such humiliation. Never! I'm the Saiyan Prince, King Vegeta's son, the sole heir to the bloodline of the strongest warriors, and yet a Low-Class Warrior trampled me underfoot!!! Unforgivable!!!"
A medic stood beside him, holding a fresh Battle Suit and a brand-new Scouter. He had been waiting there for a long time.
"Lord Vegeta, your equipment."
The medic held up the Battle Suit and Scouter over his head, his voice trembling badly.
Vegeta turned and glanced at the Scouter.
He sneered.
"Don't need it. Keep it as a toy."
"M-My lord?" The medic offered the Scouter a little farther. "This is the latest model. It can detect—"
"I said I don't need it."
Vegeta snatched the Battle Suit. He didn't spare the Scouter a second glance.
"Scouters can't detect the power of someone who can control their ki! And they can't measure a warrior's fighting spirit, or tell you whether someone will break through their limits the next second. All they can give you is a cold number."
"That Kakarot bastard makes me so angry I want to