Vampa Prisoner

When others transmigrate, they either become fast friends with royalty and nobility or slaughter their way to the top of the cultivation world, living lives more carefree than gods.

With the protagonist's halo shining upon them, a system chime rings, a mission is completed, and the reward is theirs—everything goes smoothly.

But what about him? He also had a cheat—the legendary, once-in-a-millennium Super Saiyan bloodline, capable of shaking stars and tearing the firmament asunder once awakened.

It sounds imposing, but what good is it? Ever since he could remember, he had been trapped in this hellhole called Vampa, where the horizon held nothing but wind-eroded rock pillars and barren, dark red soil.

In this place, electromagnetic storms struck without warning, purple lightning coiling and exploding like giant pythons within lead-gray clouds, illuminating the lifeless wasteland with an eerie glow.

The air was thin, each breath tasting like swallowed rust; the days were hot enough to crack stone, and the nights cold enough to freeze a man to death.

It was a literal forbidden zone for life.

Other than himself, there was only the father of this body's original owner—Paragus, a man whose edges had been smoothed away by time and despair.

Forget people; even the hardiest space moss only occasionally showed a few wisps of green in the cool crevices of rocks.

The only hope was the broken spaceship that had brought them here.

But years ago, a storm had reduced it to a pile of rusted iron covered in strange crystals, half-buried under gravel like a cold tombstone.

Want to leave? The ship couldn't be repaired, no one was coming to rescue them, and all paths were dead.

The only thing he could do was hone himself into the sharpest blade within this desperate situation.

Year after year, this was his life.

He punched against jagged rocks and sprinted through gale-force winds, slowly taming the violent golden aura within his body.

Sweat soaked and evaporated, skin cracked and healed, leaving his body covered in fine, dense scars.

He had to become strong—strong enough to withstand the cruelty of the universe, strong enough to find a sliver of hope and escape his cage.

He had endured this for forty-one years!

In his past life, he was an ace operative with a will harder than steel.

But after forty-one years of absolute isolation on this hopeless, desolate planet, cracks had long since formed in his mind.

Agitation, despair, unwillingness, violence... these emotions were like an underground current, churning in the pitch-black nights from time to time.

His brain never stopped; day and night, he pondered how to escape.

Recently, after countless simulations of the planet's magnetic field, examinations of the ship's wreckage, and deep focus on his own internal energy, he had finally found a lead.

The plan was insane to the extreme: use the extreme energy erupting from within his body to forcibly distort space and create a rift similar to a "wormhole."

If he succeeded, he could escape this hellhole.

At the very least, he could leave this dead planet of nothing but rocks and storms.

The universe was vast; there were surely places suitable for life, with blue skies, clear water, and the scent of existence.

As long as he stepped off Vampa and managed to blend into interstellar civilization, even if he only secured the most dilapidated spaceship... then the sky would truly be the limit, and he would be free to roam.

He had absolute confidence in his ability to handle the outside world.

These forty-one years of hellish training were certainly not in vain.

Now, he wasn't even sure how strong he truly was.

He usually looked like an ordinary person, with only an irrepressible explosive power lurking within his body.

But as long as he triggered his golden aura even slightly, the air would hum, and loose stones would begin to float.

He knew clearly: he hadn't fully mastered that legendary ultimate power, but he had grasped the greater part of it.

That power was like a dormant volcano, lying in wait deep within his bloodline, needing only a catalyst to erupt.

He climbed to the highest rocky peak, facing the winds that could tear a man apart, and gazed at the deathly silent horizon.

He slowly clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white.

Golden aura began to seep from beneath his skin, illuminating the rocks beneath his feet.

"Soon..." he muttered, his voice hoarse yet firm, "I'll be able to leave this hellhole soon."

One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand, hundred million, trillion... the ladder of numbers was endless, much like the power hidden deep within the universe.

Broly stood on the desolate rocky ground, beneath his feet was cracked red earth, and above him was the heavy, dark sky.

Sand and wind swept across his robust physique, but they couldn't even shake a single strand of his hair.

He hadn't personally experienced the era when Frieza rampaged through the galaxy and the Saiyans rose to power, but the memories of his past life told him that the combat power numbers in the Dragon Ball world had become blurred long after the end of the Universe Arc.

Those numbers had actually lost their meaning, because true power could not be contained by mere digits.

However, Broly still had his own classification system.

In his past life, he was a veteran bookworm who had read countless fanfictions and pondered various settings.

Even without official confirmation, he had sketched out a rough outline for the vague yet magnificent power system of the Dragon Ball universe.

He quietly sensed the energy coursing through his body.

Roughly estimated, even in his most basic state, his explosive combat power unit had already crossed the threshold of "Zi" and was approaching the realm of "Rang."

That was a level completely unimaginable to an ordinary person.

In his own classification system: ordinary lifeforms belonged to the first dimension, combat power under ten thousand was the second, ten thousand to one hundred million was the third, and one hundred million to one trillion was the fourth... With every step across these thresholds, the level of life underwent a cataclysmic shift.

As he stood now, his base form was already positioned between the eighth and ninth dimensions.

What was even more terrifying was that this was far from his limit.

Whenever he wished, his power could erupt like a volcano, surging wildly like a river flowing backward across the stars.

Whether he was strong or not depended entirely on whether he wanted to be.

"Although it's a clumsy method..." Broly's voice dissipated in the wind, as if he were speaking to himself, "it's worth a try. Otherwise, wouldn't all the time I spent forcing myself to master air compression and control have gone to waste?"

He looked up at the dim star on the horizon.

"If even this doesn't work, then I'll have no choice but to follow my original fate, waiting for those hyenas from the Frieza Force to catch my scent and find this forgotten planet once again."

With that, he finally ceased his hesitation.

Broly drew a deep breath—it was as if he intended to swallow the entire world into his lungs.

He slowly clenched his fists, his knuckles popping faintly, while the muscles in his arms and chest bulged like blocks of iron.

That vast power, akin to a sea of stars, was guided by his will as it surged through every fiber of his being.

BOOM—!!!

The next moment, a deafening roar tore through the heavens! Centered on Broly, a terrifying wave of energy exploded outward like an invisible tsunami!