Uninvited Guest

Broly stood on the cracked plain, his heavy breaths turning into clouds of white mist in the silence.

His animal-hide clothes fluttered slightly in the dry wind, his long green hair draped over his broad shoulders and back, every strand seeming to bear the weight of solitude.

He looked up. Those eyes held too many unfinished battles and too much loneliness he could never put into words.

His gaze swept over the two people before him like a blade—one was a mysterious man who called himself Beerus, and the other was an attendant named Whis, who kept smiling as he held a staff.

"There are beings like you in the universe?" Broly's voice was as hoarse as rusty iron, as though he had not spoken to anyone in a very long time.

With every word he spoke, the muscles beneath his skin trembled, like a wild beast ready to pounce at any moment.

Beerus folded his arms, his tail lashing impatiently behind him and carving a trail into the scorched earth.

He gave a cold snort, his tone filled with contempt and impatience.

"Looks like you've been here far too long." Beerus narrowed his golden eyes and looked Broly up and down. "Don't Saiyans always boast about being a warrior race? You don't even know about a God of Destruction? How pathetic."

Broly's face remained expressionless, but a flicker of emotion passed through the depths of his eyes.

He slowly spoke, as though forcibly digging the words out from the deepest recesses of memory. "We only knew the Frieza Force."

He paused, staring at the eternally desolate horizon in the distance. "Before I was exiled to this hell, Planet Vegeta was still under Frieza's shadow. No one ever mentioned Gods of Destruction..."

"Frieza..." Beerus curled his lip, baring his fangs as if he had tasted something foul. "That guy? He's just a minor nuisance in the universe, not worth mentioning."

Whis spun his staff, starlight flowing within the crystal orb at its tip.

He floated half a step forward, his robe swaying naturally, that gentle smile still on his face.

"Lord Beerus," Whis said softly yet clearly, "we should get to the point. We did not come here to discuss history."

Beerus shot him a displeased glance, but still cleared his throat.

When he looked at Broly again, his eyes suddenly turned sharp, as if he wanted to dissect Broly from head to toe.

Broly could feel the weight behind that gaze—it was not observation, but appraisal, judging whether he was worth hunting.

"To put it simply," Beerus finally said, every word carrying the flavor of a command, "we are looking for strong warriors to take part in a competition called the Tournament of Power. Your energy erupted recently at the edge of this dead, silent universe, blazing like a fire lit in the darkness. Whis detected it, so we came to see—" He deliberately drew out the last word. "Whether you are qualified."

"The Tournament of Power?" Broly repeated, and at last there was a trace of emotion in his voice.

Whis leaned forward slightly, resting his staff against the ground. "It is a universe-level martial arts tournament personally organized by Grand Zeno. Seven universes will each send ten of their strongest warriors into a free-for-all on a specially made arena. There are no rules. Only the final surviving universe will earn the right to continue existing. The others..." His smile faded, and his voice lowered. "Grand Zeno will erase them directly—including their lives, stars, history. Everything will be gone."

Broly's heart suddenly began to race, its pounding loud enough for him to hear.

He could feel his blood crashing through his body as his long-dormant battle instincts awakened.

The Tournament of Power.

So it really was the Tournament of Power.

That meant the timeline had already reached that point.

Son Goku and his companions had long since dealt with the God of Destruction before him. They had gone through Frieza's resurrection and revenge, and perhaps had even encountered powerful enemies from other worlds.

And he, the legendary Saiyan who was originally supposed to appear only after all of that, had been "dug up" ahead of time because of that uncontrollable outburst.

The air between the three of them suddenly fell silent.

Broly slowly raised a hand and looked at the calluses and scars on his palm, still stained with dust from the planet.

He clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking.

"I'm not interested," he said coldly, his voice lower than before, as though suppressing something.

Beerus raised his eyebrows. His tail stopped, frozen in midair.

"Not interested?" Surprise came first in his voice, followed by something dangerous and teasing. "Say that again?"

Broly turned around, his heavy animal-hide cloak sweeping up a cloud of dust.

He strode away, wanting to return to that world where there was only himself and no one ever disturbed him.

"I'm just a Saiyan trapped on a barren planet," his voice came from ahead, calm yet resolute. "I have no interest in the survival of the universe or the Tournament of Power. Find someone else."

"Stop." Beerus's voice was not loud, but it wrapped around Broly like invisible chains.

It was not magic, but the authority and power radiating from his very bones, making even the air around them grow heavy.

Broly's raised foot stopped abruptly in midair before slowly coming down, leaving a deep print in the scorched ground.

He did not turn around, but every muscle in his body had already tightened like a bowstring drawn to its limit.

Beerus began walking toward Broly.

Every step was terrifyingly steady, as if he were treading not on scorched earth but marble.

With every step, another deep footprint appeared in the ground, its edges so neat they looked stamped from a mold.

Whis still floated where he was, smiling as he watched the show.

"You think," Beerus's voice drew closer and closer, cold as ice, "I came here to ask for your opinion?"

Broly could feel the presence closing in behind him. That pressure was more primal and absolute than Frieza's cruelty or his father's obsession, as though the weight of the entire universe had suddenly descended upon him.

Beerus walked to his side, then slowly circled in front of him.